A Life Not Loved
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Companion piece to 'A Sudden Awakening'. Hermione just wanted to give Draco his life back, but somehow she felt she lost hers along the way. Now it was up to him to find her life for her & to prove that she is worth his love. Read A Sudden Awakening first
1. Forgotten

**All characters belong to JKR and Warner Brothers - and I make no monetary gain from using them for this or any other story...thanks!**

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**A Life Not Loved**

(A companion piece to "A Sudden Awakening)

By

Anne M.

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**1 - Forgotten:**

Hermione Granger turned the corner of the Muggle street where she lived, with the feeling that someone had been watching her. She felt that way a lot lately. She knew she was being silly. No one was watching her. There were no Death Eaters at her door. She had given up the magical life. She had all but forgotten magic, and it had all but forgotten her.

She had left her friends behind, because it was for the best. She was either a constant reminder of what they had lost (Ron), A constant reminder of more they had to do (Harry), or a constant reminder of what they would never have (Draco). Draco Malfoy told her she should leave, and that everyone would be better off without her. He was right. They would be better off without her. She had been a burden on her friends for too long. The world was a dark, empty place, and the sooner Hermione realized that, the better off she would be.

She left the only place she had called home for the longest time, which was really Harry's home, to try to make her own way in the world. She did what she had planned. She wanted to give life back to Draco Malfoy, to repay him for giving her back her own. She did that. The day she heard his sentence was commuted, and that he was once again a free man, she knew her duty was over. He was free, and now so was she. He told her he hated her. She never thought he would feel any other way, so she would accept his hate, as long as he never knew that the hate he felt for her was not reciprocated.

That first day she had seen him again, after all those months he had spent in prison, she felt his hate. Hermione couldn't even make eye contact with him. Well, that was until everyone else left the room, and she was forced to confront him. He called her Mudblood, more than once, and made her cry. What else was new? That was their pattern. That was familiar. She was tired of the way everyone else treated her as if she might break if someone just said, "Boo." He didn't care if she broke. He acted as if he wanted her to break, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

She was such a fool to think that she had changed him. He could never forgive her. She realized that now, so that was why she left. She changed her name. She took her mother's maiden name, Parker. She gave up magic. She hadn't even held her wand in months. She had a small inheritance that was left from when her parents were killed. She lived on that for a while, until one day when she was walking down a street, and saw a poster in a window of a bookstore. It read, "_Assistant Manager Wanted_". Hermione walked in, and ten minutes later was offered the job. She had already found an apartment just two blocks from the store. She didn't know how to drive, but that was no matter because she didn't have a car. Therefore, the fact that the store was two blocks away was good, except for one small detail. Her leg.

Hermione had been injured, rather, tortured, by Lucius Malfoy during the war. He injured her leg so badly, that neither magic nor Muggle medicine could quite put her right. She had to walk with the aid of a metal brace, and most of the time, a cane. She had pain everyday, but the pain was just something she learned to live with. So even though the shop was only two blocks away, it would still be somewhat difficult for Hermione to get to work everyday, but she was a determined woman. She could do anything she put her mind to.

She had been working at the shop for two months when she started having the feeling that someone was watching her. She couldn't put her finger on the exact reason she felt this way, but she knew she did, and she was rarely wrong. The owner of the children's bookstore where she worked, a lovely older widow named Virginia, told Hermione that a man had been in asking about her. Since she knew no Muggles, and none of her wizard friends knew where she was, she was somewhat concerned.

That was the first day she saw him. Hermione was standing at the kitchen window in her little flat on the third floor when she looked outside, at the dark night, and she saw a familiar looking man standing under the streetlight, across the street. There was no mistaking that silhouette anywhere. It was Draco. Virginia told her that the man who asked about her was a middle-aged black man, so Hermione could only surmise that Draco had hired a private detective to find her. How interesting. What did he want? Why did he care? The last time she saw him, he told her he hated her and he never wanted to see her again. Hermione turned the light out in her kitchen, and stared at the figure for a little while longer. Finally, he left.

The next night he was back. Standing under the street light again and twice crossing over to her side of the street, but then going back over. What was he doing? She turned out all the lights in her apartment. It was only 9:00 pm, but maybe he would think she went to sleep.

Hermione didn't know if she could face seeing him again after all that had happened. Draco killed his own father to save her life. He claimed he did it for himself, not really to save her, but she knew the truth. She killed Severus Snape for the same reason. He was about to kill Draco, so she killed him. Okay, that was a lie. She had told so many people that she had killed Snape, that sometimes she forgot that she really didn't. Draco killed Snape. He killed Snape because he confessed to killing Hermione's parents, and he claimed he did it for Draco, to avenge the fact that Draco had to kill his own father for the Mudblood. Snape wanted Draco to turn himself in to the Order. Draco was sick when he heard Snape's confession, and how much disregard he had for Hermione and for her parents. Draco told Snape he could not live with lies any longer, and when Draco drew his wand at Snape, Snape drew back. Draco was quicker and killed Snape. Draco had no idea that Hermione witnessed the entire exchange. The Order arrived right after, and Hermione finally found the way she could repay Draco for saving her life. Therefore, she told everyone she killed Snape. The truth was, she wanted him dead, and might have killed him anyway, if Draco hadn't done so.

Why was Draco following her? What more could he want from her? She decided to really turn off her light, and try to get some sleep.

It was the third night in a row that Draco was outside her apartment. She decided if he were there again tomorrow, she would definitely confront him. She left work early that day because her leg hurt so much. It was raining outside, and her leg always hurt more when it rained. Too bad she lived in rainy London town.

She sat on her couch and rehearsed what she would say to Draco when she confronted him tomorrow. Not if, but when. She bared her soul to him. She told him her deepest darkest secrets. He told her that it would not change how he felt about her, but he always was a liar. He was repulsed by her. When she finally revealed to him the extent of the torture his father inflicted on her, including carving Draco's initials on her abdomen, she thought he might react badly. She never imagined he would be repulsed, but he was. He was so repulsed that he went into the bathroom and vomited, and then he spent the rest of the night on the bathroom floor crying. She wanted to go to him all night long, but she didn't know what more she could say to him. She was not even sure if he was crying for her or himself. He may have felt guilt, or hate, or any number of emotions, but she would never know. As soon as she found out he was free to leave 12 Grimmauld Place, and that he was no longer under house arrest, she decided she did what she set out to do, so she left. She left before he did. She left without finding out why he was crying that night. She left thinking he hated her. Moreover, and most of all, she left thinking she would never see him again.

To think that she was on the verge of making love to him just a few nights before she told him the truth. It would have been ten times worse if she had done that. Thank goodness, Harry came into Draco's room and stopped Hermione from making perhaps the biggest mistake of her life.

She went back to the window and he was gone. Thank goodness. She sat down on her couch and turned on her television. She had missed having a telly at Harry's house. She had her books, but sometimes it was nice to get lost in an old movie, or a simple comedy. Someone was ringing her buzzer. She was almost afraid to answer. It must be him. He must not have gone. She let it ring for a moment longer, then got up and answered.

"May I help you?" she asked. She tried to sound nonchalant. No one answered. Maybe he left. She said, "Is anyone down there?"

She suddenly heard Draco's voice. He said, "Granger, it's me, Malfoy, let me in."

She felt a sudden wave of anxiety. She thought it was Draco, but reality sank in, no, reality hit her upside the head with a club, when she actually heard his voice. She didn't speak. Maybe he would go away. As soon as she thought that, she knew how stupid the thought was. If she knew anything about Draco, she knew that he would not leave her door until he came to say what he wanted to say.


	2. Please Forgive Me

**all characters belong to JKR**

**2 - Please Forgive Me:**

He continued to ring the buzzer. He must have thought if he irritated her enough, she would respond. She was as stubborn as he was. She finally said in the intercom, "You have the wrong person, and the wrong apartment, go away."

Draco called her a bad name and told her not to be stupid and please to let him in. 'That was rather rude,' she thought. What if he had the wrong apartment? He would feel rather foolish if he had said those things to a complete stranger. Finally, she said in the intercom, "Go away, Malfoy." She went back over to her sofa and sat down. He could ring the bloody buzzer all night, for all she cared. She didn't want to see him.

She went back to the intercom and just stood there. She was about to press the thing and ask, "are you still there?" when she heard footsteps outside her door. She looked out her peephole and saw him. He was pacing back and forth. He must have gotten into her building when one of the neighbours came in. She took a deep breath. What was he doing just pacing back and forth outside in her hall? Finally, she opened the door.

"How did you know it I was out here?" he asked. He put his foot in the door jam so she couldn't shut the door.

She hadn't seen in for months, and that was what he wanted to ask her? She pointed toward the peephole and said, "Peephole, you idiot." She tried to push him away, but he was stronger than she was and he pushed his way into the apartment.

He walked in and said, "Please, can't we just talk for a moment. Not fight; just talk. I went to a lot of trouble to find you; the least you can do is hear me out."

"Fine," she said, "but I'm leaving my apartment door open, and I'll not hesitate to scream bloody murder if you try anything funny." She was afraid he might try magic to force her to leave with him. However, he looked at her confused. Maybe he hadn't even given that a thought, so she said, "You know, like trying to apparate me out of here or something."

He told her, "I just want to talk to you, Hermione." and he sat down on her couch.

He called her 'Hermione'. Hermione sighed and moved to sit on the other side of the couch. All he had ever called her was 'stupid bloody Mudblood' or 'Granger', in all the months they were stuck at Harry's house together. He seemed to be nervous. He took a deep breath and turned toward her. His eyes looked tired, but he himself looked very handsome. She felt woefully inadequate next to him, in so many ways. He said, "I have a few things I've needed to tell you for a very long time. Please, just listen, and if you want me to leave when I'm done, and never tell anyone I found you here, then that's what I'll do, alright?"

Hermione's heart was beating so hard, it felt restricted by her ribs. She thought to herself, 'when is enough, enough?' Why do they have to keep going over the same things? Why couldn't he just admit how he felt, and acknowledge how she felt? Well, if he wanted to have his say, she would let him. She stood up and shut the door, and then came back, turned toward him and asked, "May I ask one question first?" She wanted to ask him if he really hated her, because if he did, there was no point in continuing this conversation.

"I don't think so," he said. "I'll answer all your questions in a moment; it's just if I don't say all the things that are going around in my head immediately, I think I might literally explode." She smiled. It might be nice to have his head explode. After she thought that, she felt a bit guilty. She turned to him and told him to continue.

"I'm not going to re-hash all the garbage from before. It's history. I treated you like shite for most of our lives. I'm sorry. I blamed you for so long for my own shortcomings and my own guilt. Again, I apologize. What I came to tell you tonight is what happened the night I killed my father." He laid his head on the back of the sofa and looked up at her ceiling. He looked up at a crack in the plaster and stared intently at it. She looked up as well, but then looked immediately back at him, when he resumed speaking.

"I told the Death Eaters about the location of the safe house. I had no idea anyone would be there. When I found out that you and other Order members were to be there, I immediately went to Potter to warn him. I really didn't mean for you to get hurt." She could tell that he had turned his face toward hers, even though she was looking at the floor. She couldn't look at the anguish that she knew was in his eyes.

"When I saw a Death Eater performing the Cruciatis Curse on you, I thought you were already dead. Your body seemed so broken. There was so much blood. I now realize all the blood was from the wounds on your abdomen. I ran to you, I realized you weren't dead, and then I looked up at the face of the Death Eater and saw it was my father. When he told me to kill you, I didn't even think twice, or hesitate once. In that instant I knew that, I had to kill him instead. That's what I did. It was quick and easy actually." Draco stopped talking for a moment and rubbed his eyes with his hands. She finally turned to look at him.

She moved closer to him and put her hand on his thigh. She did it to comfort him, and to let him know that it was okay to continue. She also just wanted to feel his closeness. He picked her hand up, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her open palm, and then, while still holding her hand to his heart, he continued. "After I killed him, I took off my cloak and wrapped it around your body. I ran back over to Potter, with you barely breathing in my arms. He told me to run to the portkey and get you to safety."

"We ended up somewhere in London. I didn't even know where we were. I just knew I had to get you help. I rushed you to St. Mungos, they took you from my arms, and told me to wait outside, and they would come and get me when they had any news. I sat down and the thing was, I could see your blood all over my shirt. It was red. Just like mine." He hung his head, and she moved closer still, so their legs were now touching. She needed him so much right now, almost more than she needed to hear the truth from him.

"All my life, I was told how different Mudbloods were from us. Of course, I always knew in reality that all blood was red, but I still thought your blood, your heritage, and your abilities, were inferior to mine. Nevertheless, when I saw all that blood on my shirt and my hands, I realized what a fool I had been. I was so wrong. I needed to make it right. I went back to the battlefield, and fought along with the rest of the Order. Then, as you know, the final battle was only a few days later, and I fought with the Order during that battle as well."

"After Voldemort died, I was afraid. I knew two rights, saving you and fighting with the Order during the final battle, didn't make up for all the wrongs I did, so I went on the run. I hid for over two months, before Snape found me. I'm afraid that the rest of this story, from that point on, is familiar to you." He finally stopped talking, and was afraid to look at her, so he looked toward the floor.

Hermione was speechless. She didn't know what to say or think. She wanted him finally to know peace, and maybe with his final admission, he could finally have the peace he deserved. She stood up, which seemed to shock Draco. He stood as well and said, "I see you're going to the door, so I'll leave now, but I'll answer your question first, if you would like me to."

Shaking, and with trembling legs, she didn't know which way to move. She was going to the door, but she was going to lock it. Now, she didn't know what to do. She wanted to lock the door, so they could have privacy. Apparently, he wanted to leave. Maybe he just wanted to come have his say, and then get on with his life. She looked up at this face, and before she had time to think she rushed up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth, gently, and hesitantly. His strong arms swept her into his embrace as his mouth found hers. After the briefest of moments, he said, "You don't hate me?"

She smiled and said, "You'll never believe me now, but that was the same question I was going to ask you. I was going to ask you if you really hated me. Because you told me you did that night at Headquarters." She rested her head on his chest, and brought her hands in front of her, to place them over his heart.

"Please believe me, Granger, because I now have a new policy of only telling the truth, so please believe me when I say, I don't hate you," Draco said. He ran his hands through her hair. She looked up at him, and he said, "This sounds so lame coming from me, but I actually think I love you."

She rolled her eyes, and said, "Well when you're sure, be certain to tell me, so I'll know, alright?" He smiled at that and hugged her tight. She returned his smile. "So, listen here, Malfoy. Let's get some things straight. Ground rules and all," she said as she walked away from him. He had a frown on his face and she looked at him again and said, "One, you may not call me a stupid, bloody, Mudblood bitch anymore."

He sat back on the couch, and said, "Yes, dear" in a mocking tone, which she chose to ignore, even though she found it amusing, and she continued her diatribe.

"Second," she said, holding up two fingers, "neither of us will wallow in self pity, guilt, hate, old prejudices, or past indiscretions. We're starting a life, turning over a new leaf, right here, right now. Third," she began, only to be cut off by him jumping off the couch, and putting his hand on her mouth.

"How many more rules, Granger, because depending how long this takes, I may need a bathroom break," he said in all seriousness.

She bit his hand, and he whipped it away from her mouth, and shook it in pain. "Damn, Granger!" he yelled.

"Third," she began again, "I think I probably love you as well."

She went and sat on the couch. He sat to her left, and pushed his shoulder into hers. "So, we're all right then, Granger?" He asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," she answered without eloquence.

She was slightly embarrassed as Draco looked down at her leg and at the brace. She wore a skirt and the brace was fully visible. He got off the couch, and knelt down to unbuckle the straps, just as he had done that night in his room. He took off her shoe, then the brace, and the stocking that was underneath. He ran his long slender index finger down the scar on her shin. It started at her knee and went all the way down to the top of her foot. He sent shivers down her body. He then removed her other shoe and stocking.

He went to sit beside her, and suddenly he rolled from a sitting position to his back, so that he was lying on her couch, and he drew her down on top of him. He turned sideways, with his other arm under her waist, and he lifted his head to put his lips once more on hers. He then gently bit her earlobe, and then turned once more to her lips. She was shocked, but in a good way. What was happening here? What was his intent?

His hands traveled up her back under her blouse. She was kissing his chest, and his neck, and he moaned and said her name, not Granger, not Mudblood, but "Hermione".

His arms tighten around her, and she knew she never wanted him to let go. He broke from her and stood up. She was confused by this action, but she tried to look calmer than she felt. She looked back up at him, and felt her heart racing. He pulled her up into his arms, and said, "Where's your bedroom, Granger?"

"Why, are you tired?" she teased.

"Not yet," he answered back. He kissed her again, not as gentle this time, and as she put her arms around his neck, he lifted her from the floor, with his arms around her waist, and started backing toward her bedroom door. How did he know that was her bedroom, and not her kitchen?

He backed up against the bed, and sat down upon it, with her on his lap. He kissed her in a fierce, famished way, which was almost primeval and sacred. She responded to his kisses eagerly.

He put her off his lap, stood, and started to undress himself. She didn't know what to do next. Should she start to get undressed as well? As he stood to undress, he said, "Is this what you want?"

To which she responded, "I want you."

He undressed quickly, and then lay beside her on the bed. He caressed her body on top of her clothes. He said, "You will have to remove your own clothes. I don't want to force you do to anything."

She sat up on the bed and unbuttoned her blouse. He was still in a lounging position and his hand went up to stroke her back. She knew that from his position on the bed, he could only see her back, not yet her breasts or the scars on her stomach. She removed her bra, and finally, he sat up as well. She had her arms crossed over her breasts and midsection. He laid her back gently and said, "Let's see, Granger."

She smiled and said, "That sounded funny." He smiled back at her. She suddenly felt stupid. She was nervous. She tended to say whatever was on her mind when she was nervous. She didn't want him to look at the scars. It was bad enough that he felt them in the dark that time in his room. This time it was not dark. He moved first one arm, then the other. She was there before him, and she felt terribly exposed. She knew she didn't have the best body in the world. His fingers trace the large "D" and then the large "M" that his father carved in her flesh with the same finger that earlier traced the scar on her leg. She looked in his eyes for any sign of disgust, but saw none. She reached down, as he continued to trace her scars, and removed the rest of her clothing.

He wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt utterly safe. He kissed every part of her, and she reciprocated. He started paying special attention to her breasts, and she couldn't help but moan his name. He said, "Hermione, please ONLY say my name, no other names, forever, okay?" She smiled, as she understood; this was his awkward way of saying that he wanted her to be his and only his, so she nodded in assent.

He kissed the scars on her abdomen. He dipped his tongue into her navel, which made her laugh, and made him smile. He continued to make love to her, as their bodies met in perfect completion. She felt like crying, and so she did. He stopped for a moment; he must have thought he was causing her more pain. He stopped to ask her if she was okay, and all she said was, "Draco," She really could say anything more at that point. Thank goodness, he understood and continued.

While she flinched in the beginning at his initiate touch, she now longed for the taste of him. He kept staring at her face. She felt that he was trying to memorize her features or something. She had never felt passion like this before. There was the initial pain, but now the feeling was so much different. She felt completion, wholeness, and pleasure all at the same time. This was such a foreign feeling for her. When they had completed their lovemaking, he held her up against his chest, and she put her hand up to touch his cheek. He told her, "You know earlier tonight, when I said I think I love you?"

She merely nodded her head.

"Well, I don't think I do," he said.

She felt a stabbing pain in her chest. She felt like she was suffocating. How could he make love to her, and then say he didn't love her. She looked up from his chest, and he gave her the strangest look. Maybe she misunderstood what he meant.

"Oh, Granger," he said, in almost a joking tone, "stop being so overly dramatic. What I was going to say was that I don't think I love you; I know I love you." She was still looking down at this face, and she hit his shoulder with her hand. "Had you worried there for a minute, huh Granger? You thought the mean old, spoiled, pureblooded bastard, 'Malfoy' was back, aye?" He laughed, and pushed her off his chest, and took the pillow from behind his head, put it over her face and said, "Stupid, little, Mudblood."

She quickly removed the pillow from her face, but before she could yell at him, for breaking rule number one, he kissed her soundly on the lips again, and then said, "I didn't call you a stupid, Mudblood, bitch, I'd like to point out. I said stupid, little, Mudblood. There's a difference."

"Well, rule number four is, you are not to call me, 'stupid, little, Mudblood', either," she said, as she tried to push away from him, pretending to be angry. He pulled her back down to him, and they stayed in each other's arms until the sun came up.

Draco held her all night, and she finally felt as if her life had a meaning and a purpose, as if she was meant to be loved, and by him. Her life from that moment on would be changed drastically. She wanted to let him in and to let him love her so badly. She felt for such a long time that her life, her existence, wasn't really loved by anyone. She knew that everything they had gone through, separately and together, had a purpose, and that purpose was to bring them to this point in their journey; to bring them together. She knew when he finally went to sleep, because she didn't sleep once all night. When the sun finally came creeping in her window, she decided to wake him.


	3. Is There a Point to This?

**all characters belong to JKR**

**3 - Was There a Point to This?**

She bent down and kissed his cheek. He opened his eyes slowly. He seemed confused as to where he was. He sat upright suddenly and swung his legs around to the floor. His sudden movement almost scared Hermione. Just as suddenly, he turned, looked at her sitting on the bed and said, "Good morning, Granger." He leaned backwards and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. He stood up and stretched. "Where the hell is your bloody bathroom?" he asked. She pointed toward a door off the bedroom. He disappeared inside.

She reached around for her brace, but they had left it in the other room last night before they made love. She would have to wait for him to get it for her. He was taking a shower, so it would be a long wait. She fell back on the bed and covered her nude body with the sheet.

He exited that bathroom, saw she was still in bed and said, "Having a lazy morning?"

She cocked her head to the side, and said, "I can't get up without my leg brace and we left it in the other room last night." His eyes grew suddenly wide in either acknowledgment, or embarrassment. He ran to retrieve it.

He handed it to her, but then said, "Do you need help?"

"No, I can handle it just fine," she said shyly. She didn't want him to see her put it on. He saw her naked last night, but somehow this seemed more intimate. She reached down and buckled the straps, and then said, "Hand me my robe on that chair." He did, and she stood and put her robe on and headed toward the bathroom.

She didn't immediately take a shower. She sat on the edge of her tub, just thinking. What did last night mean? Where they 'dating' now, even though they had never dated? Did he think she was some slag, since she slept with him like that? Was he going to tell Harry and Ron where she was? He sensed her indecisiveness, because he knocked on the door and said, "May I come in?" Before she could answer, the door slowly opened.

"Are you mediating?" he asked, with a sly smile.

"Just thinking," she answered. "Do you think I'm cheap for sleeping with you last night?" She had to ask it, because she had to know.

"No, do you?" He seemed angry. Why was he angry?

"I don't know what to think. Where does this leave us? Are you going to tell Harry and Ron where I am?" she asked.

"Pick a question, and I'll answer it, but don't throw a dozen at me at once," he said, sitting beside her.

She struggled to stand, and when she did she said, "It doesn't matter. Never mind. Can you leave while I shower?"

He must have decided not to press the subject, because he shook his head and left the room. After her shower, she came out to her living room. She was mildly surprised he was still there. She thought he would have left. He had made her some tea and toast. She sat down and started eating.

"To answer your question from earlier, just because you slept with me doesn't mean I think less of you," Draco said quietly. "Quite the opposite, and to answer the other question, I won't tell anyone where you are, if you don't want me to do so."

"What about the third question? Where does that leave us?" she asked timidly.

"Where were we before?" he asked back. "I told you I loved you last night. Do you think I say that to a lot of people?"

She didn't answer. She put her teacup down and picked up her bag and her cane. He had never seen her use a cane before, but then again, he had only seen her at the headquarters of the Order. "I have to get to work," she stated plainly.

"May I walk with you?" he asked, standing up and opening her door.

"Yes, I think I'd like that," she answered and smiled.

They started walking down the Muggle street, toward the bookstore. "So, Granger," he began, "you don't use magic at all, anymore?"

"No, I don't even carry my wand," she answered.

"What about protection? You live in Muggle London." He seemed surprised.

"Believe me, Malfoy, there's more dangers out there in the Wizard world than in the Muggle world. I'm fine," she stated as she struggled with her bag for a moment. He wanted to reach out and take it for her, but she switched it to the other shoulder. "Will I see you again soon?" She was afraid to ask that, but afraid not to ask it as well.

"I'm going to Serbia with Potter. Some Order business, but I'll be back in a few days," he said.

She frowned and said, "So, you are working with Harry now?"

"Yes, as long as there are still Death Eaters out there, I don't think any of us are safe, and that includes you. I wish you would come back to the Headquarters, but I'll respect your wishes," he said truthfully.

They had reached the bookstore, and Hermione turned toward him and said, "Please be careful. I guess I'll see you when you get back."

He gave her the strangest look. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time. He didn't want to look away. He didn't want to leave her, since he had just found her again. He pulled her into his arms, and stroked her back with his hands. He said, so softly, she almost couldn't make out what he was saying, "Be careful, and take care." She pushed away from him and gave him a sad smile. For some reason, she felt like this was a real goodbye, and she didn't like that, not one bit.

She couldn't concentrate at all during work that day. Her boss told her to go home and rest. She thought Hermione looked under the weather. She was just melancholy, not ill. She decided to take her suggestion and go home. She stopped by the corner market and got a few groceries, and then hobbled home. As she approached her building, she saw Harry Potter sitting on her front stoop. Draco was such a liar. He must have told Harry where she was.

As she came closer, he stood and stared at her. She was right upon him before he spoke. "Hi, Hermione."

"Is that what you came to say to me, Harry?" she inquired with ire. She started up her stairs, and he reached for her bags. She knew that even if she didn't have a bad leg, Harry would have reached for her bags, so she let him take them, and he followed her up to apartment 3D.

"Take the bags into the kitchen and put them on the table, won't you, Harry?" she commanded. She sat in a chair in the living room, and pulled off her coat. She was tired; after all, she didn't sleep last night.

He came back toward the room, and stood by the couch. Apparently, he didn't know what to say. She didn't either. Finally, she said, "When you see Draco Malfoy, tell him I don't like liars, and since he lied to me about telling you where I was, I'm not sure I believe him about anything else he said to me last night." She was very upset and she wanted both Harry and Draco to know it.

"Hermione, don't be angry with Malfoy." Harry sat down on the couch and said, "He's just concerned. We all are. We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, don't be concerned, and don't look for me any longer. You can see I am here, I am safe, and I just want to be left alone." She shut her eyes and laid her head back on the cushion of the chair. "What's the point of your visit, Harry?" she asked, eyes still closed.

"I'm bringing you home," he said, as if she had no say in the matter.

She looked up at him and practically yelled, "I am home, Mr. Potter, and since this is my home, I am well within my right to ask you to leave." She pointed toward the door. He got off the couch and took a hold of her pointed finger. He then captured her entire hand in his, stroked the top of her hand with his thumb and then kneeled down beside her chair.

"Hermione, I don't want to scare you, but we have some very reliable information that you may not be safe." Harry put his arm across her knees. "Apparently certain Death Eaters, like Lucius Malfoy, are more popular dead than alive, and there are a certain number of other Death Eaters out there who want to avenge his death."

"Give it up, Potter," she said, "I don't believe you. I'm perfectly safe, and I'm not going anywhere with you." She closed her eyes again.

"I hear you don't keep your wand with you anymore," Harry said as he stood. What was his point? That he was going to use magic against her, or what?

"Gee, what else did Malfoy tell you?" She struggled to stand beside him. "Did he tell you we slept together last night as well?"

Harry looked angry, but she didn't care. "What you and Malfoy do or don't do, I have been beyond caring about for a long time. But, you're still coming back with me, and I'm sorry Hermione, but you don't have a say in the matter." He literally grabbed her wrist and started to pull her toward him.

"Wouldn't it be easier to disapparate with me? Or are you going to pull me all the way back to Headquarters?" she yelled at him, trying to break free from his grip.

"I need you to pack a bag first, and then we'll apparate to Headquarters." He practically dragged her to her bedroom. She sat on her bed.

"No, Harry, I can't go with you. I don't want to. I want you to get on with your life and forget about me. I'm too much trouble," she said, as she looked at the floor. He sat beside her on the bed.

"Hermione, I couldn't forget about you anymore than I could forget how to breathe. You're no trouble to me. You're my best friend in the whole world; I just want you to be safe. This is my life, hunting down the rest of the Death Eaters, and keeping my loved ones safe. Now please pack your bag." He stood and walked out of the room and shut the door.

How dare he? He had no right. He wasn't her keeper. She went to her dresser drawer, and opened the top left drawer. She reached in the back and took out her wand. Hermione hadn't fingered the long slender piece of wood in a long time. She held it like it was an old friend. She went and packed a bag, opened her door, and looked at Harry, who looked so much older than his years.

He came up to her to reach for her bag, but before he could take it from her she looked at him and said, "Tell Draco I'm leaving because of him," and she disapparated, leaving Harry Potter alone in her apartment.


	4. Nobody Knows

**all characters belong to JKR**

**4 - Nobody Knows**

Hermione hadn't been to the place she had apparated to in such a long time. It had been over a year. This was her parents' house. Hermione didn't know why she hadn't sold it yet. She knew she never wanted to live here again. She didn't even ever want to set foot in here again. She just didn't know where else to go. She knew the house had been cleaned up and cleared of any reminders that her parents had been murdered by Death Eaters. That didn't make it any easier to be there, though. Nobody would ever know how hard it was for Hermione to be home again.

She walked through the now empty rooms. There was no furniture left. No pictures on the walls. Nothing about this house seemed familiar to her. She didn't think she could continue, but she did. She walked up the stairs, which took her next to forever. She walked into her old bedroom. The wallpaper had dark squares where Hermione had pictures hanging, and the wallpaper around the now vanished pictures had faded to a lighter hue than the rest of the paper. She tried to remember what pictures went where, and she couldn't. She started down the hall to her parents' room, and knew before she even got there that she wouldn't be able to enter. She had not been in this room since she had heard they had died, because this was the room in which they were killed. Were they tortured? Did they die in pain? Hermione started to sob. She felt a crushing weight on her chest. She turned and hurried back down the stairs.

She walked down a few steps of the stairs, sat down, and cried. Nobody knew how she felt…nobody. Damn Harry Potter and damn Draco Malfoy. Her life was going along just fine. She was lonely and sad sometimes, but at least she was starting to live again. She tried to still her breathing, so her tears would go away. Once they abated, she took several steady breaths and then decided to go back to her flat. She wasn't going to let anyone tell her what to do anymore. This was her life. It was given back to her by Draco Malfoy, when his father tried to take it from her, and she was ready to take it back.

She apparated right back to her flat. Harry was gone. Thanks goodness. She knew Harry; she knew he would be back. She no sooner turned around to walk to her bedroom, when she was enveloped by a pair of strong arms. She was pulled into Draco's chest. He held her tight for only a moment, and then he let her go so fast, it seemed he almost recoiled from her touch.

"Bloody hell, Granger! I just got here and Potter told me you disapparated. Where the hell did you go?"

"You know what, Malfoy, sod off! Just leave me alone and sod off! You have no right to make demands of me. You lied! You said you wouldn't tell anyone where I was, and yet you did!" she screamed at him.

"Hermione, I did what I thought was best for you. I recall you doing many things I didn't like, but in the end, you did what was best for me. Let me return the favour," Draco implored.

"FAVOUR!" Hermione yelled, "Is that what all of this is? Is that what having sex with me last night was? Was it a favour? I don't need you to return any favours. I don't need anything from you, Malfoy!" She pointed her wand at him.

"Granger, put your wand away," he said with anger. He approached her slowly. "You've probably forgotten how to use the blasted thing anyway."

"Don't underestimate me; it will be a mistake on your part," she gloated.

"Why are you like this?" he asked, "Difficult at every turn?"

"That's coming from the man who made difficult a lifestyle," Hermione said, sarcastically. "Leave me alone. I don't want anything from you or Harry, ever again. If either of you try to force me to go with you once more, I'll go so far away, you won't ever hear from me again," she said, still pointing her wand toward him.

"Is that what you really want, Granger?" he asked with narrow eyes.

"That's what I need, Malfoy," she answered.

"Go to hell, then," Draco said, and he disapparated on the spot.

Hermione decided right then to put up every protection charm she had ever learned. That would keep out Harry, Ron, Draco, and any other Order member who might try to interfere with her life, but also, if she was truly in any kind of danger from Death Eaters, it would protect her from them as well.

The next few days went by as slowly as any days she could ever remember. She went to work and came home. Went to work and came home. Neither Harry nor Draco tried to contact her in the last week, and for that, she was grateful.

Finally, a week after her encounter with Draco, she was closing up the shop, when she heard the bell over the door. She was behind a shelf, restocking, when she peered around the corner, and saw a man, in all black, entering the store. He locked the door. Hermione pulled her head back around, out of view, and put her body flush against the wall. Suddenly, the lights in the shop were extinguished. She felt fear creep through her entire body. She heard footsteps approach her. She had taken to carrying her wand with her again, but dammit, she had left it in her purse behind the counter.

She would never be able to outrun whoever it was. She knew in her heart that it was a Wizard, and not a Muggle. Her breathing became erratic and she started to perspire. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She heard approaching footsteps. The next thing she knew, she heard familiar words and heard the sound of a curse, and she saw the man's body drop to the floor. The only thing she saw was his hand, but she knew it was attached to a body. Someone stunned the intruder, but whom?

She heard another set of footsteps. Someone was in the next aisle over. She looked through the crack in the shelf, and saw another man in black. He also had to be a wizard, of this much she was sure, since he stunned the first man. She pushed the shelf in front of her with all her might, and the entire shelf, which was taller than Hermione, and twice as wide across, fell in a fury of falling books and crashing wood. Hermione screamed out of sheer terror. Whomever she knocked over yelled as well, probably in shock and pain. She tried to take that opportunity to run, and she decided to run out the back, to the alley behind the store. She stumbled however, and landed directly on her side. She cried out again, but this time in pain.

She dragged her body, crawling all the way, to the cellar door, which was used as a sort of stock room. She heard whomever she knocked over with the shelf start to move books and wood, and he yell out, "Where are you?" In her fear, the voice didn't sound familiar to her at all. She managed to push open the cellar door, but she knew she would never be able to stand in time to walk down the stairs, so she literally rolled down the stairs. She landed in a heap at the bottom, on the cold stone floor. She started to cry in anguish, and pain, but also in sheer terror and fear.

She tried to crawl deeper into the cellar, but she saw a silhouette of a figure, outlined in black, at the top of the stairs. She couldn't tell if it was the first man that she saw, or if it was the one she saw through the bookshelf. He started to lumber down the dark stairwell toward her. She was still dragging her body across the stone floor. He took the stairs slowly, perhaps she had injured him. She crawled behind the old iron furnace, which took up an entire corner of the cellar. She swallowed hard. All she could think was, 'Please, please make him go away.' She was afraid that he would find her, so she tried to remain as quiet and still as her pain and fear would let her. She heard footstep on the stone cellar floor.

"Where did you go, little girl?" the man asked. Now she knew she didn't know the voice, so she couldn't know the man who spoke. Fear was the only thing she felt. Please, someone, anyone, help her. That was when she heard someone else running down the stairs. She heard another curse, and she saw another blast of light from behind her hiding place at the rear of the boiler. She ducked her head and buried it under her arms. Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm, wrenched it almost out of her socket, and they threw her over their shoulder. The man ran back up the stairs with her, as if she weighed nothing. She was so hysterical; she had yet to open her eyes to see who her subjugator was. When they reached the top of the stairs, she heard the man holding her throw another curse, at apparently a third intruder. She heard the familiar sound of a person falling and hitting the floor. The man carrying her blasted the back door open with his wand, and ran out the alley. He continued to run down the alley past several buildings, and when he finally deposited her on the cold wet surface of the alleyway, she cowered in fear.

He reached down, put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Now do you believe us, Granger."


	5. To Believe or Not to Believe

**all characters belong to JKR**

**5 - To believe, or Not to Believe**

Hermione sat on the cold, hard ground, looking up at Draco Malfoy, who was bent at the waist, with his hand on his side, breathing hard. "Do you believe that you're in danger now, Granger? Do you?" He kept saying it repeatedly. Hermione's head was reeling, and at that moment, she didn't even know what to believe.

"What's going on, Malfoy?" Hermione asked from her place on the ground.

He took another deep breath, and said, "We don't have time. I need to get you out of here."

"We can go to my flat. I've put up all sorts of protection charms," she said flatly.

He raised his eyebrows at her, as if asking 'why' and she said, "I had to be able to keep you and Harry out, didn't I? Grab my arm and I'll apparate us there." She suddenly had a terrible thought. "Damn, I don't have my wand, it's in my purse."

Out of nowhere, he reached in his long cloak and threw her purse at her. "Next time, keep your bloody wand on your person, not in your fucking purse, and maybe you won't have to knock a whole bookshelf over on me." He bent down to help her up to stand, and she winced in pain. She couldn't stand, even on her good leg. He picked her up in his arms and she apparated them to her flat.

He put her on the couch, threw off his cloak, and sat down beside her, still out of breath. He put his head back on the back of the sofa cushions and shut his eyes. "Start talking," she said.

"I had been watching your flat and the bookstore for days. I was outside when I saw your co-worker leave and turn the sign around that said 'closed'," he began, "Why the hell didn't you lock the door?" He suddenly realized.

"Please, just continue." She didn't need a lecture now, and apparently a locked door didn't keep anyone out, anyway.

"I saw the man enter and lock the door, so I apparated into the store. I'm the one that extinguished the lights. I stunned him, and then I went to look for you. I even called out for you." He turned and gave her a nasty look.

"I'm sorry, I was scared, and when I heard someone ask where I was, I really did recognize your voice. I was crazed with fear," she tried to elucidate. "So, I guess I knocked the shelf over on you, but in my defense, I didn't know it was you," she explained. He nodded. "I'm sorry." She was too.

Draco stated, "When I was finally able to climb out of the rubble, I saw that the wizard I stunned was gone. I heard him going down the basement stairs, so I figured that was where you had gone. I went down and he was at the bottom of the stairs, so this time I did more than just stun him."

Hermione gasped and drew her hands up to her mouth, temporarily forgetting her pain. "You killed him? Draco, the owner of the shop will come into work tomorrow, find that mess, and then find a dead man in her cellar. She'll call the Muggle police. They'll come and check on me, to see if I know what happened, or to see if I'm okay."

"I didn't think of that," Draco said as he stood. "Listen, I have to take care of this mess. I'll be back as soon as I can." He started to leave, but then leaned down on the sofa with one knee, and put his hands on either side her shoulders, on the back of the couch. He was nose to nose with her. "Don't leave me again," he warned. He leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips. He pulled away slightly, looked at her again, and then came closer for another kiss. This time, he kissed her gently. Then he disappeared.

Hermione was nowhere well enough to disappear, even if she wanted to. Not only did her bad leg hurt her, but also her whole body hurt from her tumble down the stairs. Her hip hurt, her back hurt, and her left shoulder hurt. She remained on the couch for the time being, and waited for Draco to return.

After an hour, it dawned on Hermione that he wouldn't be able to apparate back into her flat. She had her wards set up so only she could apparate or disapparate in and out of her apartment. She was on her own. Had he already discovered that? Surely, he would just ring the buzzer from outside. She tried to get off the couch to head to the bathroom, but she couldn't stand. She crawled toward her bathroom, and when she reached the door, she cursed the day she was even born. She lifted herself onto the cold tile floor of the bathroom, and started throwing her own little temper tantrum. She threw anything and everything that was low enough for her to get her hands on. She was such a bloody fool. Here she was helpless, and someone wanted her dead, yet again. Couldn't the Death Eaters just give a poor Mudblood a break, and leave her the hell alone? She lay on her side, on the floor, and cried.

There was the buzzer she had been expecting. She wasn't sure how long she had been on the bathroom floor, but it was long enough that she was stiff and in more pain than she was in when she first entered the little room. She crawled once more (how humiliating) to her front door. The buzzer was still ringing. Shut up already! She managed to open her door, but she couldn't reach the buzzer or the intercom, so she couldn't let Draco know she was waiting for him, neither could she let him know she was incapacitated on the floor.

She moved to her right side and wished he would use that brain that was in his head, and figure out a way to get in, the way he did that first night.

Hermione was alone in the dark room. She could tell it was late. She was so tired. She needed to sleep. She hoped that Draco would find her soon. She gave into slumber, when unexpectedly Hermione found herself in a forest, full of ancient, primeval trees. It was dark and there was an ominous sound of wind whispering all around her, carrying its voice up over the trees. Where was this strange place? She found that she could walk easily in this forest, as her leg had somehow been mended, and her other injuries were long forgotten as well. She started to run for reasons unknown, but just as she started running, the forest floor began to shake and rumble. The leaves and undergrowth swirled at her feet. She ran down a path, and the tall trees started to be uprooted behind her. One would fall directly in front of her, and she would turn around to run the other way.

Another one would fall behind her, and she would run forward again. The forest was soon littered with felled trees. There were no cleared paths out of the forest; the paths were buried beneath a mountain of fallen trees. Hermione tried to climb over the trees, and as she scrambled over the first one of many, and came down the other side, the earth opened up and she fell in a deep, dark pit. She lay at the bottom, and started to scream.

Draco came running into her flat. She was thrashing around on her floor, and she seemed to be asleep. He didn't know what to do for her, so he put his body flush against hers, pulled her to him, and held her tight. She opened her eyes, saw that it was all just a nightmare, but then realized her reality was a different sort of nightmare, and she started sobbing again. He rocked her in his arms and all he kept saying was, "it's alright, it's alright.' Hermione was inconsolable, as she was rocking back and forth in his arms, because she knew that nothing was ever going to be all right again.

After an eternity, she calmed down and he put her on her sofa. When he first came rushing in her flat, and he saw her back toward him, lying on the floor, and he was scared that the Death Eaters had gotten to her first. The whole scene was very reminiscent of how he found her that day in the woods, the day his father tortured her, and the day he killed his father to save her life.

He fell on his knees, beside the couch, and scooped her up into his arms again. He held her tight and said, "Are you alright? I was trying to get in forever! I was so scared when I saw you on the floor. I didn't know why you were thrashing around in pain." He was holding her, rocking her back and forth.

"Draco, I can't breathe, let me go," she said honestly. He let her go slightly.

"Why didn't you let me in? I couldn't apparate in," he pleaded.

"I couldn't even stand. Something's wrong. I need to go to hospital," Hermione said.

Draco stood up, and said, "Potter said we need stay put for the time being. Are you sure you can't wait?" He touched her cheek.

"Please, Draco, I need to go to the hospital now," she implored, "and I think we should go to a Muggle hospital." She didn't know if she felt safe going to St. Mungos.

"How will I get you to a Muggle Hospital?" Draco asked, sitting beside her on the couch. Then he said, "I'm going to take you back to Headquarters. We'll get a healer to come there for you."

She didn't care ever to go back to that lonely, depressing, dark, empty place. She felt the evil in that house fed upon her soul. She didn't even realize she was crying again, but she was. He tried to pick her up, but she was hitting him with closed fists. He finally managed to pick her up, and he walked with her out to her the hallway of the apartment building, and disapparated them both to Headquarters.

They arrived directly in Hermione's old bedroom. He laid her on the bed, and she was still crying and saying incoherent things. He went to get Potter. Harry and Lupin returned shortly, and after they arrived, so did Draco and a healer. She wouldn't let anyone touch her. She was quite hysterical. The healer had to perform a sedative charm on her before he could even examine her.

When she calmed down, the healer healed her injuries, and gave her something for her pain. She asked to see Malfoy. He came into her room and sat on the chair beside her bed.

Hermione turned to look at him, and she asked, "Why are you doing this? Why can't you leave me alone? I don't want to be involved in all of this again. Why, Draco?"

He leaned forward in the chair, and took her hand. "You know, don't you? You must know. Must I tell you? I can't stop feeling the way I feel. I can't stop doing what I have to do. Even if it's not welcomed, I don't have the strength or the power to stop it. I love you. I need you. I must keep you safe. You can't suddenly make me become human again, with human feelings and emotions, and then ask me to stop. You can't teach me to love, and then tell me I'm not allowed to. I won't have it, Granger." He let go of her hand, leaned back against the chair, and stared into the dark, empty room.

Was she asking too much of him? On the other hand, was he expecting too much from her? She didn't care, not right now. Right now, she only needed one thing. She needed to sleep.


	6. Not Worthy

**all characters belong to JKR**

**6 - Not Worthy**

Hermione woke early. She felt somewhat better. She had been back at 12 Grimmauld Place for a week. Draco, Harry and Lupin had left, and they left Ginny Weasley to 'police' her. She didn't really feel like Ginny was her friend any longer, and she wasn't even sure why she felt that way. For the last few days, her only interaction with Ginny was when Ginny would bring her meals, and books. She thought that Ginny probably wasn't happy that she was back. She wanted to tell Ginny that she wasn't happy about it either, but the red headed girl probably wouldn't care.

She managed to get out of bed, with the help of a walker that the healer left her. She grinned as she rolled down the hall to the bathroom. She must look like an 80-year-old woman. She suffered a broken hip and a broken clavicle from the fall down the stairs. The healer also fitted Hermione with a much better brace for her leg. It was still bulky and unattractive, but much less cumbersome. She was actually getting along better with the new brace and the walker then she had in a long time.

Hermione was confined to the second floor, as she still couldn't climb the stairs. Harry said they fixed the wards so she couldn't disapparate, or apparate, so that was another reason why she was confined to the second floor. Hell, why didn't they just take her wand from her. Didn't prisoners usually have their wands taken from them? For that was what she considered herself, a prisoner. She missed her job and her own little flat. Draco had moved all her belongings back here to her old bedroom. Who did he think he was? He apparently also went to her job and told them he was her brother and that she had to quit, due to personal reasons. He had no right, but it was over and done with and there was nothing she could do about it now. Before he left, she didn't even tell him goodbye. She wasn't sure what she felt for him any longer, but she was sure it was no longer love. Maybe she wasn't capable of love anymore.

Later that day, Ginny brought her lunch up to her. She was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, reading a book when Ginny put the tray down. Hermione didn't even look up from her book. When Ginny reached the door she turned around and said, "Harry and Draco will be back this afternoon."

"How nice for you," Hermione said with disdain, leaving her nose in the book.

"Hermione, do you want to talk?" Ginny asked.

"No, Ginny, what I want is to go home, but since I am a virtual prisoner here, and you are my captor, I guess that's not about to happen." Hermione didn't care if she sounded like a spoiled brat. Those were her true feelings, and she was tired of always putting everyone's needs and feelings before her own.

After she ate, she took her walker and walked to Draco's room. Why he was still in the littlest, darkest room, with only one window, at the back of the house, was beyond Hermione. It definitely had a more lived in feeling than it had before. She sat on the Windsor chair by the window and stared out of the wavy windowpane, which overlooked the back garden. She stared up into the gray afternoon sky. Hermione felt that the grey sky was apropos. It fit how she felt. She sat there until the afternoon sun started to set, casting an orange, eerie glow across the horizon. Draco's little room was getting dark. She should go back to her own, but she stayed where she was.

She could hear voices down below. The men must be back. Draco came into his room and threw his bag on the floor. He flopped down on his bed, sighed, and put his hands over his face and said, "Damn." He hadn't even noticed Hermione sitting there. She looked over at his face. He looked tired.

He turned his face, as if sensing her existence, and without seeming dazed in the least he said, "Hello."

"Hi. Rough trip?" she asked.

"Do you care?" he asked flippantly. Then he added, "Sorry, yes it was a rotten trip, and we accomplished nothing."

"Tell me where you went," she asked.

He sat up on the side of his bed and said, "We received information from a captured Death Eater that there were two former Death Eaters who had been in Azkaban back when my father was there, before the war. They escaped when my father did. They allegedly are the ones who want to avenge his death, and they want to carry on the work of the Dark Lord. We had information that they were in Spain, but, it was bogus. No, it was faulty. There were former Death Eaters there, just not the ones we were looking for."

Hermione said, "So, your trip accounted for the capture of at least some Death Eaters, so you should feel glad for that."

"Sure, Granger," Draco said in anger, "I'm filled with glee. We captured some big bad former Death Eaters. Are you safe though? No. Am I? No. Therefore, I say it was a bust, okay. Let me be angry if I want." He lay back down on the bed.

"You won't let me be angry, so why should you get that luxury," she asked.

He bolted off the bed and said, "What do you mean, I won't let you be angry? Are you referring to that little fit you threw on the night you arrived?" he yelled.

"The night I was kidnapped," she corrected.

"Bloody hell, Granger, forgive me for wanting to keep you safe. Forgive all of us for caring. You don't care any longer, so someone has to take that responsibility." He sat back down, his anger quick to subside. "What the hell are you doing in my room, anyway?"

She really didn't know. She thought it might have something to do with the fact that she wanted to be close to him, but she wasn't ready to admit that at this point. She was still angry with him. She still blamed him. It was easier to be angry with him, than to be angry with herself. Finally, she answered, "I don't know why I'm here. I'm sorry, I'll leave." She got up to leave.

"Don't leave," he said. She didn't.

He closed his eyes; she continued to look out the window. She turned the chair slightly so she was almost facing the window. She couldn't tell that he had opened his eyes and was looking at her. He was trying to figure out what he could do to help her. She helped him, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember what all she did, but she helped him. It was his turn to help her, and he didn't know how. Why was she all of a sudden so broken? Was it that she was broken the whole time, and he just now saw it? He thought that was most likely the case.

"Hermione, look at me for a moment." He was now standing behind her. She turned slightly in her chair, and stared up into his slate grey eyes. "You do know that I'm just trying to help you, don't you?" he asked.

"Don't bother, Malfoy," she told him. "I'm not worthy."

He picked her up without effort and sat in the chair with her on his lap. He put his arms tightly around her, and she sank deep into the bosom of his embrace. "Why aren't you worthy?" he asked her.

"All the difficulty you're going through, well, I'm just not worth the trouble. I'm not worth the pain, and I'm not worth your love." She turned in his lap so she was staring at him. "Please, just forget about me. Let me go." She had a single tear fall down her face.

"I think you're worth it, even if you don't. You know how selfish I am, so right now, it's what I want that's important, not what you want," he said, and then he kissed all the way down her cheek to her jaw, tracing the route the tear left. He kissed her ear, then her earlobe, and then her neck. He kept his lips close to her neck and whispered, "Come back to me, Hermione. I need you. I need all of you." He put his hand under her chin and kissed her mouth. He left her mouth and nibbled his way back down her neck. She sat limply in his lap, her hands on his arms, but that was all. He toyed at her lips again, and finally pressed his tongue into her mouth. He wanted to yell, "WAKE UP" to her. Finally, she started to respond to his kisses. She shifted slightly in his lap, which made him grow harder, and made him want her more. She started to kiss him back. Thank you, thank you, he chanted in his mind. She kissed his cheek, and then his neck. His hands went up her back, under her shirt, and then to the waistband of her skirt. Just then, there was a knock on his door.

"Draco, Harry needs us to give our report to the other Order members in ten minutes." It was Lupin's voice. Draco took his hands and put them on her shoulders.

"We have ten minutes," he joked.

"No, we don't. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have kissed you." She tried to reach over to the walker, but he held fast.

"Explain why this was a mistake," he demanded.

"Draco, we don't have time for this. Let me go." He let her go and she reached over for her walker and started to leave his room.

He stood as well, and when she reached his door and opened it, he put his left palm out and slammed it shut. She turned slightly, and he physically turned her the rest of the way, so she was pressed hard up against the door by his body, which was a good thing, because his hard body on hers was the only thing holding her upright.

"I'll prove to you that you're worthy, Hermione, if it's the last thing on earth that I do." He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face.

She started shaking her head and crying again. She felt like all she did anymore was cry, and her tears were all wasted tears. "Don't you see," Hermione cried, "I don't want that to be the last thing you do. Don't risk you life for me! I'm not worth it!" She was close to being hysterical again, he needed to defuse the situation, and the only way he knew to do that was to kiss her again, so he did.

He pressed his body harder if possible, trapping her between the door and his frame. He kissed her with fervor, passion and pain. "Do you feel that, Hermione? Do you feel my passion? That's real, and don't you dare say that you aren't worth it, because that belittles me as well. I was worth your saving, wasn't I? Then you're worth being saved by me, damn you." He separated himself from her, then he physically moved her from in front of the door, and left the room before she did, leaving her behind, in the littlest, darkest room, with only one window, at the back of house. She decided to sit back down in the chair. She liked it there.


	7. By The Light of the Moon

**all characters belong to JKR**

**7 - By the Light of the Moon**

Hermione Granger was completely and utterly ignoring Draco Malfoy. The problem was he didn't seem to realize this. She was avoiding him whenever she could. She would leave a room when he entered. She would walk right past him without as much as a hello. He would just say hello to her anyway. When she would walk out of a room, he would follow. He was oblivious to her palpable contempt. She could feel it, why couldn't he? Harry was set to leave again in two days. Lupin was leaving as well. That would leave just her and Draco. She was not overjoyed by that thought.

Harry could feel the tension. She was avoiding him as well, and he seemed to understand that fact, but he really couldn't ask her the reason why. That morning, she was upstairs; waiting for someone to bring up her breakfast, but it never came. By lunch, when she was hungry, and she was still waiting for food to come up, she was shocked when once again no food came to her. She decided that she must be on a forced hunger strike to which no one bothered to tell her. By tea time, when there was no earl grey or green tea (her favourites) and no biscuits or sandwiches, she decided enough was enough.

She hadn't needed the walker for days. The healer told her she was fine and could get around just as she always had, if not even better, but that hadn't stopped the men at 12 Grimmauld Place from continuing to deliver her meals to her room, until today. She stayed mostly in her room, only occasionally going to the sitting room or the library, as she really had nowhere she wanted to go, at least not in this godforsaken house. However, since she was now hungry, she headed toward the kitchen.

She made her way down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. She saw all three men sitting at the table having their afternoon tea. She didn't say hello, since she was still ignoring them, as she put the kettle on to boil. She stood with her back to them and Harry spoke first, "Hermione, do you need any help over there?"

When she didn't turn around and answer, Draco said, "Hasn't anyone told you, Potter. She's avoiding us. She has been for days. Where have you been?" Then he stood up and leaned against the counter, right next to her, but continued to talk to Harry. "I told you that she would eventually have to come down stairs to eat. You see, she misses a few meals and her convictions go right out the window."

Hermione took her teacup, which she had just filled with hot water, and threw it hard on the floor. The hot water splashed on Draco's leg and her legs. He yelped in pain, but she tried to be stoic and didn't let on how much it hurt her.

Harry and Lupin both ran up to help, but Draco put out his hand to stop them. "If she got burnt, she deserves it." Then he turned to Hermione and said, "Clean up your mess. We aren't here to wait on you." He took out his wand, healed his own burns, and then told the men to leave her alone. Lupin and Harry both walked upstairs. Draco turned to leave as well. Hermione took her wand, healed the burns on her legs, and then bent down the best she could and picked up the bigger pieces of broken ceramic, and cleaned up the rest with her wand. She hadn't realized that Draco was still in the doorway, watching her every move. She made another cup of tea, and heard him say, "There's a big piece of broken teacup you missed, over there by the sink. Are you just going to leave it there?" She looked up at him, shocked since she thought she was alone, and then she threw the new teacup with hot water at him. It splattered everywhere, but he thankfully was not burnt this time.

He walked up to her and said, "Clean that up!"

She stood nose to nose to him and said, "I don't acknowledge your right over me, so you can't tell me what to do. Not as long as I am a hostage here. Let me go home!"

He took her arm in his hand and squeezed hard and said, "Listen you spoiled brat, no one here is going to coddle you any longer. Clean up your mess, now."

Hermione put her hand over his, which was still holding tight to her arm, and said, "No, you listen you overgrown, barbaric monkey's arse, as long as I am prisoner here, I will not cooperate. You clean up the mess." She actually tried to walk past him, but he took her by her hair and yanked it very hard.

When he let it go she turned around and hit him on the chest with her fist. It didn't even faze him. "What is your game?" she asked, "Is this how you're going to show me how much you love me? Is this how you're going to heal my soul? You're a joke! Remind me to buy you a book on psychology someday." She pushed him as hard as she could and again tried to walk away. He picked her up by her waist and sat her on the counter top.

"Draco, I can't jump down from here because of my leg, you stupid prat. So, help me down," she yelled.

"You can just stay there until I clean the mess you made. You know, Granger, I think it's time you learn to do things on your own, but you can just stay there until you can act like a human being." He started to clean up the new mess with his wand. She looked at him with a glare, and looked around for anything on the counter that she could throw at him. She picked up the tin with the sugar in it, and when he came over close enough to her, she dumped the entire tin of sugar over his head.

The next two things happened in such a whirlwind of movement, that neither knew exactly what was happening. Draco picked her up off the counter, to which she grabbed the teakettle and hit him upside the head. He yelled in pain and dropped her to the ground, which was never his intention. Now she yelled in pain, and as he looked down at her with genuine concern, she grabbed his ankle and pulled with all her might and he landed in a thump right beside her on the floor. Next, she tried to get her wand, but he was wrestling her for it. They were rolling around on the floor, and the water from the kettle mixed with the sugar from the tin, was now coating both of them with a sweet, sticky mess.

He got her on her back, and straddled her hips. He took her wand, threw it over his shoulder, and then he reached up to the closest thing he could reach for on the counter, which was a pitcher of cream, and he dumped it on her head. He took both her arms, pinned them above her head with one hand, and with the other hand he held her face, under her chin, to keep her still.

Hermione was covered in water, sugar and cream. He was covered in sugar and water. They were both out of breath. Hermione had tears come to her eyes. He knew if she cried he would feel worse about assaulting her than he already felt. He just wanted her to clean up her tea. He never meant for it to go this far. She turned her head to the side, the most she could do since he still had her chin, to avoid his stare, and said, "Please get off me, you've really hurt me." She started to cry harder.

He let go of her arms, but remained straddled over her waist. She put her hands up to his body and tried to push him off. He put both her wrist in his hands, and again pressed them to the cold stone floor and leaned down and with his face pressed against her face, he said, "I'm never giving up on you." Then he sat back up on her and said louder, "I'm doing the best I can, and the only thing I know how to do. If you have any suggestions on how I can get you out of your catatonic state, then I'm open and willing to listen."

"Get off me," she replied, but it was really a plea.

He got off her and lay back on his back, sticky, wet and at his wits end.

Hermione turned to look at him and said, "You'll have to help me up. Please."

"Since you said please, I will," he said without remorse for his earlier treatment of her. He stood up and lifted her up as well. "Did I really hurt you? Is your hip and leg okay?" he asked. She ignored him and started upstairs, still as hungry as she was when she came down, but now wet and sticky as well.

Several hours had passed. Hermione didn't come down and join them for dinner. Both Harry and Lupin wanted to take her up a tray, seeing that she hadn't eaten all day, but Draco insisted that they leave her be. She would come down and eat something when she was ready. After dinner, Draco found her sitting, by the light of the moon, on the same Windsor chair in his room, by his window. Why did she like his room so much, if she pretended that she didn't even like him any longer? He shut his door and thought, 'she's in my room, without my permission, so I'll just ignore her.' He undressed completely, and then walked nude out of his room to get a shower.

He came back a few minutes later, wrapped in a towel, and dripping water. It would appear she had already bathed as well. He hadn't noticed it when he came in the room the first time, but now he could tell her hair was wet, and she was wrapped in a robe. She seemed to be taking another bath, as she was now bathed in the moonlight. The silver light from the apparent full moon gave an ethereal glow about her. He turned from her, dropped his towel, and put on some jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He sat on the bed, looked out the window and said, "What's so interesting out there that has your attention?" No answer. "Gone back to ignoring me, aye?" he asked. "No bother," he lay back against his pillows on his bed, and stared up at the ceiling

Hermione unexpectedly started talking; to which Draco found himself holding his breath, taking in every single word. She said, "Sometimes, I find that I have trouble remember what my parents looked like. I can look at their pictures, and they just look like pictures, they don't look like them. Sometimes I'm afraid I will totally forget them. I already can't remember what their voices sounded like. I can't recall what their laughter sounded like. Why can't I remember?" She turned to look at him, and he was staring right back. He didn't try to answer her question, because he knew it was metaphorical.

She turned back toward the window and she added, "I've tried for so long to not think about what they went through that night, but now that's all I seem to think about. I dream about it. I imagine what they saw, and what they went through. It tears me up inside to know how scared they must have been at the end. Did they wonder if I was safe? Was their last thoughts about me?" She started to cry. It seemed that was all she did these days.

"First, they had to be told that their only child was tortured and left for dead by Death Eaters, then when they leave her bedside, still sick with worry over her, they're murdered by perhaps some of the same Death Eaters, while they thought they were safe at home in their own beds. It's not fair, Draco. They didn't do anything wrong. Why did they have to die?" He rushed to her and he dropped to his knees in front of her.

"No one deserves to die that way, Granger. You didn't deserve what happened to you, and they didn't deserve what happened to them. This is a mean, cruel world, and many unfair things happen. Bad things happen to good people. No one knows why, it just does." He began to stroke her wet hair. She fell into his open arms. Maybe she was ready to receive the comfort that he had to offer, or maybe she didn't even realize he was there. Whichever one was the truth, one single truth remained; Hermione needed Draco, because no matter how much she pretended and no matter how much she lied, she still needed love. Everyone needed love.

He picked her up from the chair and put her cold, wet and now trembling body next to his on the bed. He pulled the covers over both of them. She stayed wrapped in his arms, bathed by the moonlight, until the moonlight left the sky and the morning came to them, welcomed once more.


	8. Need

**all characters belong to JKR**

**8 - Need**

Hermione was in the attic looking through some old boxes containing her belongings. Potter and Lupin had been gone less than a day. It pained her that she didn't even tell them goodbye when they left. She did come down for breakfast that morning, but then she left the kitchen as soon as she was finished. Before they left, Harry came to her bedroom door, knocked twice, and said through the door, "Goodbye, Hermione. I'll see you in a week. I love you." Then he left.

Hermione went up to the door, to open it, to tell him goodbye, but something stopped her. Whether it was her own foolish pride or what, she didn't question the matter, nor did she tell him goodbye. She stood on the other side of the door and wished him goodbye and good luck in her head.

After they left, see started looking through all of her things, looking for one particular letter that her parents had written her back when she first entered school. She had been reminiscing a lot lately, looking at photographs, scrapbooks, and letters. The letter that she couldn't find was important to her, and it was driving her mad trying to locate the damn thing.

She looked through books, in dresser drawers, in boxes and containers. That was when she decided to go up to the attic, and look through her boxes up there. She couldn't explain it, for there was no rationale, no intelligent justification, but she wanted, no, _she needed_, that letter.

After the fifth box, she still could not find it. She found her baby book, her old Muggle report cards, old birthday cards, and even her parents' wedding photo album, which she laid aside to take downstairs with her. Nevertheless, the letter was still elusive. Draco came up to the attic to look for her. He saw her sitting on a wooden box, on the floor; her bad leg straight out in front of her, because of her brace, and boxes all around. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she asked him, "Draco, when you packed up my apartment, did you make sure you packed everything? Are you sure you didn't leave anything behind?"

"No, I got everything. Even your measly five pieces of furniture are up here," Draco said.

Hermione thought for a moment; surely, she had more than five pieces of furniture? She had a bed, a bedside table, a dresser, a desk, a desk chair, a couch, a coffee table, a rocking chair, a television, and a kitchen table and two more kitchen chairs. One, Two, Three… "I had twelve pieces of furniture," she pointed out.

"I stand corrected," he rectified, with a smile, "all twelve measly pieces of your furniture are up here."

"Where's my old school trunk?" she asked from her place on the little box.

"How the hell would I know? We brought everything that was in your flat here, your books, your clothes, everything. Was it even at your flat?" Draco asked, looking around.

"No, I guess it wasn't." Hermione said, looking around slightly. "I think the letter might be in there," she said more to herself than to him. Then she said, "I used to keep it in my trunk when I was young, and I would pull it out and read it every first day of school." She struggled to stand, and instead of offering her his hand, he let her struggle. She needed to learn to stand on her own, literally and figuratively.

"Granger, what are you talking about now? You forget I've come into this little 'play' during the intermission. I don't even know what you're doing up here. What are you looking for again, a letter of some sort?" he asked.

"Yes, it's a letter my parents wrote to me when I was young. Draco, I need to go to my parents' old house. I think that's where my trunk is, and I'm sure the letter's in the trunk." She started to walk away from him.

"You're not going anywhere. What's so important about this damn letter anyway?" he asked, putting his arm out to stop her.

"I just really need it. I do. You can come with me, be my own personal guard," she said lightly.

"I'll ask once more, what's so important about this letter you 'just need'?" Draco interrogated.

Hermione looked out the little attic porthole, and said, "It's personal." The letter was written to her when she first found out she was a witch and would be attending Hogwarts. Her mother wrote her the letter, in which her father signed as well, telling her how proud they were of her, and how much they loved her. They told her that she would do great things someday, and that no matter what, she was always their little girl, their 'precious love'. She needed that letter. She was not sure why, but she thought she needed it to help her heal. She turned back to him and said, "Please, Draco."

Draco demanded, "Tell me what it said, so I can determine if it's important enough for to risk going to get the damn thing."

"Am I not allowed secrets? You have plenty," she goaded.

Draco walked up to her and put his hand on her arm, and then feathery soft, his fingertips traveled down her arm to touch her hand, He held her hand firmly in his and said, "I believe you know all my secrets, Granger."

"Fine," she conceded, "my mother wrote me a letter when I was little, my first year at Hogwarts." Hermione started to explain, "She told me not to read it until I was on the train. Up until that point, I had never been away from my parents for more than overnight. I think she knew I would be lonely, and would need a piece of home. She wrote me this letter, although it was from both of my parents really, and it said how proud they were of me, and how much they loved me. Her post script told me to take the letter out and read it whenever I was lonely, and to think of them as I was reading, and to rest assure that at that precise moment, they would be thinking of me also, because I was always in their thoughts. They both signed the letter. My mum wrote, 'from your mummy', and my dad simply wrote, 'love, Daddy'." Hermione felt she was at the brink of tears.

"That letter got me through so many hard times. Every time I was picked on, or made fun of, or called Mudblood, I would read that letter," Hermione said, turning her back on Draco. He knew he was probably the source of all three of the things she just mentioned. How many times did she have to read that letter because of him? He shuddered at the thought.

She turned back to him and said, "Whenever I was homesick or scared, or worried about Harry of Ron, or any childhood trauma, that letter served as my surrogate parent. It got me through more rough times than I can count. It became my own little tradition to read it on the train each year, on the first day of school. You can imagine how torn and tattered it became over the years. I even had to use magic to keep it from falling apart." She was so close to tears. She could feel them burning her eyes, but she didn't want to cry. She was so tired of tears.

Now it was her turn to take his hand. "It's a silly thing, I know, but something inside of me is starving for that letter. It's as if a hole is burning deep in my soul, and the only thing that can extinguish the flame is that letter. I'm sorry if you can't understand that, but it's what I need. I need it to help me become whole again."

She was breaking his heart. He wanted to heal her, and if this letter would accomplish that task, then Hermione would have her letter.

"Where in the house is your trunk?" he questioned her.

"All of my parents' things were put in storage in the lower level of the house. That's where they used to have their dental practice," she explained.

Draco thought for a moment and then said, "I'll go try to find your trunk for you, and bring it back here."

"NO!" she shouted, surprising him. "It might not be in the trunk. I might have to look around for it. I need to come with you."

"Absolutely not. Potter would have my head." Draco was shaking his head no.

"Don't good prisoners get rewards sometimes? Haven't I been a good prisoner lately?" she asked with antagonism and ire.

"You're not a prisoner, Granger, and frankly, you've not been that good." He started to walk back down the stairs.

"Draco, I'm going with you," she said. She caught up with him and walked directly behind him down the stairs. As he reached the bottom step, he came to a complete stop, and since she was looking at her feet on the way down, carefully watching her step, she had not noticed he stopped and she ran right into his back.

"Why did you stop?" she asked him.

He turned to her and put both arms around her tight. Hermione placed her hands on his chest. He kissed her right temple, near her hair. Then he turned quick as a cat, with his arms still around her waist, and deposited her in the closest room, which was his bedroom. He sat her on the chair, what he liked to call 'her chair', and he locked the door with magic. He was not up to arguing with her. Hermione was too stunned to speak, and by the time she could speak, he was long gone.

She stood up and said aloud, "That was rude." She sat back down. Hermione didn't have her wand with her, so there was no use trying to escape. She picked up a book she had left by the chair the last time she was in his room. She considered this little chair 'hers'. She read for about an hour, and as the time ticked slowly by, she became more and more anxious for his return. Her angst was two-fold. She wanted that letter, but she also hated to be in this house alone. She didn't care who was with her, she just didn't like to be by herself, not here. She put her book down and said to herself, "Be honest with yourself, Hermione, even if you won't be honest with anyone else." The truth was that she was not only apprehensive about being alone, but she was worried and scared for Draco. In addition, he was the one she wanted to be with, even if it was at this house.

She stood back up and started rummaging through the papers on his desk. She found a recent copy of The Daily Prophet. She started to look through the paper, when something else on the desk caught her eye. It was a small white envelope, and it looked to be well worn. Perhaps it was old, or had been read many times. She picked it up, with every intention of just looking at the envelope. She would never dream of reading the contents. It was his personal letter, just as her letter from her parents was private to her. She lightly handled the worn envelope between her fingers, and as she was placing it back down on his desk, she happened to see the front. It was addressed to her. Before she could look at it properly, she heard Draco return. He opened his bedroom door.

She put the letter down quickly, sticking it under some of the rubbish on his desk, and turned toward the door. Draco came in and promptly fell on the floor. She rushed to his side. What happened to him? He appeared hurt, but she could not ascertain what was wrong just by looking at him. He was breathing rapidly, sweating profusely, and clutching her letter to his chest. She looked for his wand, found it in his hand, took it from him and levitated him to his bed.


	9. The Letter

**All characters belong to JKR**

**9 - The Letter:**

She watched him all night. She had no idea what was wrong with him. He didn't shed any light on the issue as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

She couldn't see any visible signs of injury or dark magic. There were no apparently wounds. He wasn't bleeding. There were no bruises. She had taken the letter from his hand as soon as she put him on the bed. She deposited it on his desk, deciding that she would read it after he woke up. Please, let him wake up. She would never forgive herself if he didn't. She couldn't leave the house to summon help. She didn't even have any forms of communication at her disposal. She had no idea where Harry and Lupin were, or when they would return. Right now, she was on her own, and she had never felt more alone in her life.

She put a wet cloth in a basin of cold water, and wiped his fevered brow. She had no inkling of a clue whether this was useful, but it was something that was often done for the injured and ill in literature and old movies. She really didn't have anything else to do. He was breathing, and that was as much as she could be positive about now. He was alive and breathing.

She kept a watchful eye on him all night. She soothed his brow, stroked his hair, and whispered words of encouragement. Things like, "It's alright, you're safe now," and, "I'm here; I'll take care of you." She didn't know if he could hear her or not, but she said it more for her own sake anyway. Around four in the morning, she found herself nodding off to sleep. She was sitting on the bed, beside him, and she fought the feeling as hard as she could, but sleep won the war and she found herself in a deep slumber. Sitting upright on the bed next to his body, she was crudely awakened by him yelling out her name. She was so bewildered that she found herself almost falling off the bed.

Thrashing around, he continued to call out her name. What was she supposed to do now? She tried hard to wake him. She put her hand on his chest and said, "Draco, wake up." To her total unabashed embarrassment, he suddenly seized her arm, and crushed her to his chest. He had a death grip on her body, and he was still calling her name. She tried to extricate herself from his grasp, but he would not release her, nor would he wake up.

Since she wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon, not unless he decided to release her from his clutches, she gave up and relaxed her body on his. This seemed to calm him, strangely enough. His thrashing and yelling stopped, and his hold slackened. He moved to his side slightly, and pulled her into his warm chest, and there they lay, as lovers wrapped in a warm embrace after a night of lovemaking. She put her hand to his face, touched his cheek, his hair, his lips. She moved her face to his and touched her mouth to his mouth. It was warm and wet. She kissed him briefly and then she relaxed against his body and went to sleep in his arms.

The sun was shining bright and yellow through the little window in his room when she woke up. She removed his arm from around her body. She went to the bathroom and then came right back. He looked peaceful, finally. She decided not to try to wake him, but to let him sleep, for now she was convinced that he was finally just sleeping. The worst was over.

She moved the little Windsor chair next to the bed and sat down. Hermione leaned over to the desk and reached for her letter. She decided to open it and read. He went to so much trouble to retrieve it for her. Who knew what happened to him. She needed to read the letter, not only for herself, but also for him.

_____________________________________________________________

_Our Dear little Hermione:_

_Daddy and Mummy are so proud of you. You are so special and smart and we always knew that there was something extraordinary about you. Everyday of our lives we thank the heavens above that we're blessed with a daughter like you. You're a special treasure, our own little precious love._

_You make us more proud of you everyday. Remember; always take pride in everything that you do. Be proud of who you are, and don't let anyone make you feel inferior or different. There's nothing wrong with being different, there is nothing negative about that word. Remember you can do anything that you want to do. Don't get discouraged by other people and their negative remarks. Only you can make yourself feel inferior, other people don't have that much power over you. So, daughter, don't ever feel discouraged or inferior. It would be a waste._

_Hold your head up high and be proud of everything that you do. Remember how proud we are of you._

_We hope we have been half as good as parents to you as you have been as a daughter to us. No one could have asked for a better daughter. We love you so much. We love you as high as the moon, and as bright as the sun, and as wide as the whole wide world. You are not just a special daughter, but you are a special human being who is destined to do great things with her life._

_We feel blessed just having known you and having you as a part of our family and our lives. Walk with your head held high and know that no matter what, there are two people out there in the world who loves you more than anything._

_Try not worry too much. Be good and study hard, (Daddy just told me to tell you not to study too hard and to remember to have fun). You are only young once, even though we know you have a very old soul. Most of all, try to be happy, because you deserve happiness._

_Always remember that your life is special because your life is one that is loved._

_We love you, you will always be our little girl and our precious love, until the day we die, and even afterwards, for all time._

_Love, Your Mummy_

_Love, Daddy_

_P.S. Whenever you're lonely, or homesick, or sad for any reason, take out this letter and read it, and remember how much we love you, and think of us and know that at the precise moment that you are thinking of us, we are thinking of you, because you are always in our hearts and minds, forever._

______________________________________________________________

Hermione read the letter two more times, as she sat in her chair and cried. She cried for her parents, for Draco, and for herself. Her mother told her always to remember that her life was a life that was loved. Somehow, she had forgotten that, and so she cried in shame. She felt disgraced, knowing how much she had let her parents down.

She went to look out at the beautiful morning that was laid out before them, and she said, "Forgive me Mum and Dad, forgive me for not remembering everything you wrote to me, for forgetting to be proud, and for forgetting to be happy. Forgive me for thinking that my life wasn't worth love. I know that even though you aren't here with me anymore, that somehow, you still love me."

At that precise moment, a moment forever defined, Draco said, "Remember, Granger, I love you, too."

She turned to Draco, dropped her letter on the floor, and ran to his bed. She sat next to him and put her hand on his forehead. He took his left hand and brought it up to her tear soaked face. She bent and kissed his lips.

"I feel like shite," Draco said, with a grimace.

"You look like shite." Hermione smiled.

"You read your letter?" he asked. She nodded. She wondered if he had read it. She thought he probably did. Before she could ask he said, "I couldn't help my curiosity, I had to read it. I'm sorry. However, if it's any consolation, it gives me insight into why you're so wrecked right now. It must be hard to go from having that much love at your fingertips, and then have it so abruptly taken away. I'm sorry that your parents died, Hermione, and I'm sorry for the way they died, and for the reason."

"I'm sorry you almost died getting my letter. Tell me what happened," she implored.

He tried to sit up, but couldn't. She put a second pillow behind his head, and he told her what happened.

"When I arrived at your parents' house, nothing was amiss. Nothing was out of the ordinary. There seemed to be no danger whatsoever. I went down to the lower level, and I found your trunk easily. I rummaged through it a while, snooping through your things." He gave her a sly smile.

Hermione said, "I would expect nothing less from you, you were in Slytherin, after all. Please, continue."

Draco said, "The Death Eaters must have been watching the house. That's the only explanation. They had been watching your flat and your work. Perhaps they had expected you to show up at the house." He stopped for a moment and asked for some water. She went to the bathroom quickly to fill up a glass for him. She thought about what he said. If it was true that they had been watching her parents' house, then the day she apparated there to get away from Harry could have been her last day on earth. She was very lucky that her anxiety caused her to leave there that day.

She came back into his room and put the glass up to his lips. He took a long drink and said, "Thank you." She put the glass on his desk and he told her the rest of the story. "I had only been at your house maybe a half an hour at the most, when I heard at least three pops. I knew people had apparated inside. I heard footsteps overhead, so I decided to hide. I hid in what was probably a storage closet at one time."

Hermione interrupted and said, "Why didn't you disapparate away, right then and there? Why did you stay?"

"Because, Hermione," Draco explained, "if these were the men who were after you, then I wanted to stop them anyway I could, even if it meant killing them. I couldn't just run and hide. I heard them come down the stairs. I heard them talking. It was then that I knew for sure that there were three of them. One of them opened the closet door, and I hexed him immediately. Unfortunately, the other two cursed me at the same time. I think one performed an unforgivable, while the other uttered some dark ancient spell, of that I'm certain."

"I felt like all my nerve ending were on fire. It felt as if someone was taking a dull blade, and was cutting my insides to ribbons. Like my flesh was being picked from the bone. I have never felt such pain before." Draco stopped for a moment, because at that split second he realized that he was describing to her the exact same thing that she once described to him. The same torture that his father performed on her must have been the same dark spell that was performed on him, and suddenly he was ashamed. He was embarrassed to tell her of his pain, because she had already lived the exact same thing, but probably ten times worse. Because he knew his father; where these men stopped the curse on him after only about five minutes, he knew that his father probably cursed Hermione for so much longer than that. He was ashamed.

"Draco, if you don't want to continue, you don't have to, I don't need to know," Hermione said, still stroking his face. He put his hand on hers, brought it to his lips, and kissed her fingertips.

"They stopped shortly after they started," he said. "I don't think they realized you and I have a connection; well not just a connection, but that we have feelings for each other, because instead of killing me, they told me to give you a message. They told me to tell you that you would be killed for the death you caused, a life for a life."

"But I didn't kill your father; you did, so why do they want me dead, instead of you?" she said.

It came out wrong. She started to tell him that she didn't mean it like that, but he must not have even noticed, because he said, "They don't care about my father's death. They want revenge for a killing that you didn't even commit, but one in which you took the blame. They want to kill you for killing Severus Snape."


	10. Empty Promises

**all characters belong to JKR**

**10 - Empty Promises:**

Hermione's head was spinning. Her pulse was rapid. She felt a prickly feeling on the back of her neck. She looked down, and her palms were actually sweating. Somewhere along the line, she had made a grave error, one that might turn into a fatal error, and the biggest mistake of her life. She told the world she killed Severus Snape, a man she didn't kill, and the reasons were not even important anymore. The only thing that was important was that she was going to pay for this mistake, this error in judgment, for the rest of her life. She might even pay for it **with** her life.

The fact that she had already been convicted for the crime, and had served a sentence, meant nothing to a bunch of rogue Death Eaters. To them, justice was not served, and would not be served, until she was dead - dead and buried in the ground next to her parents. She was scared the Death Eaters would get their way. In addition, she wasn't scared because she was afraid of dying, but because she was no longer afraid of living. Whether it was her parents' letter that helped her see the light, or if it was because she finally felt ready to admit her love for Draco, she didn't know. She knew that her love for him felt as if it would burst out of her chest. She knew she wanted to live, and she wanted to live for him.

She sat on his bed and felt a heavy weight on her chest. Her breathing was constricted. Inside, her head was reeling. Outside, for Draco's sake, she tried to collect her feelings. She tried to hide them deep inside. She didn't want him to see her true feelings. What she didn't know was that she could never hide anything from him. He could tell just from the look on her face the torment she was going through. He held her hand, and she 'faked' a smile. She told him everything would be fine, they would figure something out when Harry and Remus returned.

She excused herself, claiming she needed a shower. She told him what she thought he wanted to hear, and they were all lies. How she managed to smile and walk out of the room, she would never know, for once she reached the bathroom, and after turning on the shower full blast, she collapsed on the edge of the tub in tears. Tears that revealed her awful truth. That she finally wanted to share his love, and she may never get that chance.

Draco knew Hermione's smile and words of encouragement were not evident of the truths that she felt. He sat on his bed for only a moment, and then walked to the bathroom. Although he heard the water running, he also heard her crying.

She stood from her perch on the side of the tub and went to lock the door. Before she reached the door, she looked at her reflection in the foggy mirror and realized that it would never be over. It would never be over for any of them. She would always be running from an enemy unknown. Harry would always be searching for Death Eaters, and Draco would always be stuck somewhere in between.

Draco stood outside the bathroom door. It took every ounce of fortitude and willpower even to stand, but for her, he would walk a mile. He put the palm of both hands on the cold wood of the door and let his forehead fall silently between his hands. He then turned his face so his cheek was touching the smooth grain of the wood, with his ear pressed up against the surface. He could still hear the sound of the shower, but underneath the 'whoosh' of the water, he could also still hear her crying. He wanted to cry as well.

She was scared and she didn't want him to know. She thought this was all her fault.

He was scared as well, and he also placed blame, but his blame was placed solely at the feet of Draco Malfoy, and no one else. For she was convicted of his sin, the sin of killing Snape, and now she would never be free.

She went to the bathroom door to the make sure it was locked. She didn't want him to enter.

He put his hand on the doorknob, to see if she had locked the door. He was able to open the door just a crack.

She saw the door open before she reached the knob.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Come in," she said.

He opened the door and she stood there and stared at him. He reached into the tub and turned off the water. She turned to him and wiped her eyes. She tried to smile, but a smile would no longer come. She could no longer pretend. She wanted to spare him, but the truth was that she finally trusted him enough to show him her true feelings, and her true feelings were that she was terrified and afraid to die.

Before she could reach for him, he reached for her. He pulled her into his arms and she fell against him. She put her face against his chest and said, "I'm so scared."

His shirt was soaked in seconds. He didn't know what to say to her, because he honestly couldn't tell her that everything would be all right. He didn't think that they would. He wouldn't tell her that he would protect her, because he might not be able to do so. He wouldn't even tell her that it would all be over soon, because frankly, he wasn't sure it would ever be over. Therefore, he just held her and let her cry. He would be strong for her, but that was all he could offer, besides his love.

Draco knew in the deep recesses of his soul that he would stop at nothing to keep her safe. He just didn't know what that would entail. He loved her more than he loved life itself. Why didn't he just tell the Death Eaters that he killed Snape, when they found him at her parents' house? He would have, he should have, but he wanted to see her again. If only one last time. If he had told them, they would have killed him and she would never be afraid again. He was a coward.

He made up his mind right then and there what he would do and he decided he wouldn't tell her until the very end.

Her tears finally ceased. He put a hand on each side of her face, and with his thumbs, he wiped the tears away. "Hermione, I'm not going to make any empty promises to you. I don't know what we're going to do at this point. All I know is that I love you so much. I refuse to find love and then have it taken away from me. I won't give up, and I won't let you give up, either." He kissed her slowly, with a hunger that burned his soul. A hunger that was palpable. He pulled away from her and said, "Get your shower, Granger, and then meet me downstairs."

When she finished her shower, she joined him in the kitchen. He was sitting by himself at the table and she thought he never looked more alone. "I had Dobby make us some breakfast," he stated, holding up his coffee cup. He put his cup down and held his head in his hand.

Hermione sat next to him on the bench, picked up a piece of toast, but managed only one bite, before she put in down and hung her head. He looked over at her. She looked up and met his gaze. He wasn't eating anything either. He turned his eyes back toward the vast nothingness of the air that hung low like a vapid wasteland in front of them both. She joined his vigil. She stared at the same nothingness. She put her right hand on the bench, and it touched his thigh. He acted as if he didn't notice, but he did. That small touch meant more to him than she would ever know. It woke him up from his dreadful mourning. He put his hand down on top of hers.

What he would never know, was that his gesture, small though it was, of putting his hand on top of hers, gave her the resolved that she had needed for so very long. She turned to look at him at the exact moment he turned to look at her. Their mutual stares spoke volumes. As she looked intently into his eyes, she said, "I'm not hungry, are you?" He shook his head no. He removed his hand from her hand and touched her cheek. She put her abandoned hand on his thigh.

"What's happening here, Malfoy?" she asked, breathlessly. "Do you feel it? Something's in the air. It's so intense that it's actually pulling on my soul. It's soaking up all the air. What is that? Don't you feel it?"

"I feel it," he told her, "and I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but I can't ignore it either. It's like an electrical current in the air, and it's surrounding me and smothering me and pulling me under, all at the same time."

"But what is it?" she implored.

He smiled a real smile for the first time that morning and said, "You're a smart girl, Granger, if you had to articulate what you thought this feeling might be, what you would hazard to guess?"

Hermione smiled, this time it wasn't a false smile, and she said, "I would say the shift in the air, the charge of electricity, and the filling of that deep void that surrounds us, in coming from you, and is aimed toward me."

"What would that be, Granger?" he asked with raised brows.

"What would you say it was?" she asked in return.

"I asked you first," he told her.

"I would say that we're finally being truthful, without even speaking any words. I would say that I have finally figured out that you love me, and even more surprising, that I love you as well. Furthermore, I would say that I have finally come to the conclusion that we're both worthy of each others love, although I have been known to be wrong before." Hermione turned her head from him, just in case she _was_ wrong.

Draco put his hand under her chin and said, "Guess what? This time, you're not wrong."

"I'm glad," she said.

"Me too," he returned. Then he said, "It took you long enough, for Merlin's sakes. I thought you would never figure it out, and it was right there smacking you in the face the whole time." He stood up and offered her his hand. They walked upstairs.

The truth. She finally admitted the truth. She was worthy of love. She was worthy of his love. His resolve, all this time, gave her strength and courage to come to the realization on her own. She just needed the time to figure it out on her own, too. She no longer needed to hold back. She could love again, and not fear being hurt or left alone. She no longer had to face her internal struggles by herself, and the fact was she had **never** faced them alone, because he had been there all along.

They walked up the two flights of stairs. When they reached the second floor landing he said, "Granger, I want to make love to you, but you have to tell me something very important first."

She was prepared for this. He earned the right to ask. She loved him, and she was ready to say it and mean it. "Go on, ask your question." She put her head on his chest and he hugged her tightly. She then looked at him, waiting.

He finally asked, "Your room or mine?"


	11. I Can't Do this Anymore

**all characters belong to JKR**

**11 - I can't do this anymore**

Draco took Hermione by the hand and asked, "Shall I lead the way?" He led her to her room and as they crossed the doorway, he let go of her hand and sat on the bed. She came and sat next to him. The warmth of his body was more fulfilling to her empty heart than anything had been in such a long time, and all they were doing were sitting side by side.

"Granger," he stated, bumping her shoulder with his, in an attempt to make her smile.

"Malfoy," she mocked, bumping him back.

He laced his fingers with hers. He took his other hand and traced small circles on the top of the hand he held captive. She shut her eyes so she could concentrate solely on his deliberations. She listened to his breathing, which coincided with his touch; his breathing became slower and shallower, his touch became slower and more calculated. She felt like her flesh was being burned by his touch. He looked at her closed eyes and he reached for her face. Still holding her hand with one hand, he touched her closed eyelids with the other. His hand moved from her face, down her neck, to her collarbone, to her shoulder and down her arm, in one fluid movement. He brought it back up the same path, and ended at her chin, which he tilted upward slightly so he could have better access to her mouth.

He leaned over and kissed her lips, slowly and surely. He pulled away and she opened her eyes. She took two conscious breaths to calm her nerves…one…two. He let go of her hand and turned slightly on the bed, so he was facing her. She mirrored his movements, so she was facing him. He now brought his hands up and put them in her hair. He stroked it softly. When they were young, he always imagined it would be coarse and springy, but it was the softest thing he had ever felt in his life. He wasted so many years. Years he could have been with her. He stroked her hair; her hands were on his thighs. Not moving, just resting. He wanted her more than he wanted air to breath, light to see, or blood to bleed.

She moved closer to him and his resolved melted away, shattered before him like a fragile piece of glass. He was no longer slow, methodical or temperate. He was still kind and loving, but his passion was such that he wanted to be ruthless and unforgiving. That's what he wanted. He grabbed her roughly and forced his mouth on hers. He couldn't wait any longer. She understood, because her need was as great as his was.

His lips tangled with her lips. It was a forced fury of tongues, lips, kisses, and bites. Their hands were all over each other. She climbed on his lap and for a moment, her knee was in his groin, and he winced in pleasure and pain. He lifted her by her waist slightly, so now she was straddling him, with her legs awkward on both sides of his thighs.

He pulled her shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. He pulled on her breasts. He grabbed them in both hands and massaged them roughly. He pushed the cups of her bra off her breasts. He kissed her neck. He bit down and sucked on the tender skin under her earlobe. He unclasped her bra and it went the way of her shirt.

He picked her up and deposited her on the bed, with her head pointed toward the footboard, and her feet toward the headboard. The weight of his body being lowered to the bed made the springs creak slightly. He led a trail of wet kisses from her neck to her breasts, around each mound, to the valley in between. He almost ripped her jeans off her. His hands were shaking. The jeans were stuck on the damn leg brace. She sat up to assist, and with no malice, he pushed her back, and resumed the task on his own. He removed the jeans, and then the brace and they joined the heap on the floor.

When he sat up to remove her clothes, he took the opportunity to remove his shirt. Then he stood and removed his slacks. She was about to become undone. She wanted him to get on with it. He put one breast in one hand, while still standing on the floor beside the bed, he dipped his head and sucked on her nipple, and then he joined her again on the bed.

He had to will himself to slow down. He sat above her, and let his hands travel down her body. He pulled down her knickers and she tried to cover her body with her hands. He took a hold of both hands and interlaced her fingers in his. He laid the full length of his hard, muscled frame against her soft supple body, his hardness on her lower abdomen. He moved down to lick her abdomen, and he noticed that her ribs showed through her skin. He put both hands on her waist. He could almost encompass her waist with his hands. He saw the scars on her stomach and this time he didn't feel ashamed. This time it didn't faze him.

She felt exposed. She really did want him to get to it already. Just a moment ago, he seemed like he would take her quickly, and now he was torturing her again. Hermione pushed down on his shoulders, as he moved between her legs. He wouldn't allow her to rush him. He took her hands in his again and placed them over her head. He suddenly stood again, and she gave him a quizzical look.

He asked, "do you trust me?'

What was his intent? It didn't matter, so she said, "With my life." She still had her hands above her head. It was as if she was offering herself to him. He went over and locked the door. He came back to the bed, and ravished her with more kisses. He put one leg between hers, pressing between her legs with his thigh. He could feel how wet and warm she was, and it was all for him. It was the best present he had ever been given. Her heat matched his want for her, and he felt an ever-growing need to press his pelvis to hers. He entered her very slowly, perhaps too slowly, because she winced. He shut his eyes and she looked at his face. He seemed lost in his reckless abandonment. Hermione had to shut her eyes as well, the pleasure more and more intense.

Her hands went to his back, urging him on. He needed no such instructions. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what she needed. The rapture came and went so quickly, that it was over far too soon for them both. He felt as if he couldn't think straight. White lights streaked through his brain.

She screamed and it was a foreign sound to him. He had heard her cry before, yell, curse, moan, growl, groan, and a whole host of other things, but not a scream like this, a scream laced with passion. He needed to scream as well, so that is what he did.

They both collapsed on the bed, oddly enough, not in each other's arms, almost as if they parted enemies, not lovers. He collapsed on one side of the bed and she on the other. She finally crawled her way to him, just as he was reaching out to her to pull her close. She looked down at his heaving, sweating, body and said, "Please, Draco, promise me something. Not an empty promise, but a real promise, strong and true."

"For you, Hermione, I would promise anything," he told her.

Just seconds later he regretted this statement as she said, "Promise me you'll never tell anyone that you really killed Snape."

He heard what she asked, and he told her he would promise her anything, but once again, Draco Malfoy, unintentionally this time, lied to Hermione Granger. He couldn't promise her that, because that was what he had decided to do, just this morning. Did she know that? How could she?

He pushed her on her back and assaulted her lips again. Maybe she would forget what had she just asked of him. He started stroking her between her legs, until she was whimpering once more. He started with a slow, singular rhythm, which rapidly became a chorus of many instruments and melodies. He pushed his body back into her and her head fell backwards and she yelled out again. Her eyes were closed and he said, with much difficulty, "Look at me." She opened her eyes again, and he saw her love for him shining through their depths, and he decided right then to tell her the truth. In the middle of their lovemaking, in the middle of her climax, and in the middle of his. With clenched teeth he said, "I already owled Potter today. I told him the truth."

She was so close to the edge, as was he. He thought perhaps she didn't hear, and he couldn't blame her. He was a coward. He told her in the throes of passion. Their mutual release came, and this time he fell on top of her, dead weight, because he was exhausted and fatigued. He eventually moved to his side, held her tight, and therefore he knew the exact moment when her body stiffened. She had heard.

He closed his eyes, as she struggled in his arms. He took deep breaths and heard her say, "No, you can't do that. Why?" She was struggling against him and he was forced to open his eyes and face his accuser.

She finally escaped his hold and scrambled to the edge of the bed. He stood up abruptly and put on his jeans and his shirt. She was shaking her head no. He reached over and pulled her up to him, and said, "I can't do this anymore, Hermione. I won't lie to you, and I won't lie to the world. This is the only way. The only recourse. You'll be safe now." He kissed her hard, harder than he should have, and threw her underwear and t-shirt to her. He turned from her, ashamed. Somehow, he felt he had used her. If he had told her what his intentions were first, he was sure that she would not have made love to him, twice.

She struggled with her clothing, and sat on the side of the bed. She reached for his t-shirt and twisted it in her hand, forcing him to turn back around. He looked down at her hand and put his hand over hers, to release him from her clutches. "Tell me why?" she yelled.

"That's the only way to ensure that the Death Eaters will leave you alone. I had to," he tried to explain. He reached for her shoulders, but she hit his hand away.

"Don't I have any say in this?" she asked him.

"Did I have any say in you taking the blame for me in the first place? No, you did what you thought was best for me. Well, now I'm doing what I think is best for you, end of discussion!" Draco practically screamed at her.

Terror instantly settled on her chest with a crushing weight. Without thinking, she tried to stand, and promptly fell to the floor. He couldn't reach her in time and she landed at his feet. He stood her up and held her in his arms. He couldn't look at her, so he held her head tightly against his chest.

She said, "You can't do that! NO! You can't! Not you. Please!" She was frantic.

His face was pressed in her hair and he said, "I must."

Hermione screamed again, another foreign sounding scream. This time, instead of a scream of passion, it was a heart-wrenching scream of utter despair. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" she yelled, "I hate you! You brought me from the brink of despair, from the realm of loneliness, and now you're taking me back there!"

He was shocked by her display of emotion. His legs felt as if they were weighted down with lead. He wanted to run from her, but he couldn't. She had a point, but what was done was done. He let her go and she fell once more to the floor. He ran from the room, only to run right back in. He picked her up again and started shaking her.

"I want you so much! I love you more than humanly possible!" Draco yelled at her, "I want a normal life with you, free of fear and want. Do you think I wanted to fall in love with you only to lose you? For once in my miserable life, I have to do what's noble and what's right! Killing my father wasn't noble! It was a fluke. It was my fault you were there and that he found you. Killing Snape wasn't noble; it was an act of selfishness. For just once, I want to do the right thing for the right reason. That reason is that I love you. I do. I love you." He stopped shaking her and held her so tight that he almost crushed her. She was sobbing so hard that her body was shaking on its own. He said in softer tones, "Don't you know how much I love you? You must know. You must see it. Must I explain? There's no other way, Hermione. It's a full circle. You gave me my life and taught me to love. I gave you my love and taught you to live. It's complete. It's done. It's how it must be."

He let her go again and she fell once more at his feet, and she sobbed on the cold pine floor, in only her t-shirt and underwear, totally exposed, but not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. He exposed her emotions and feelings and now he was leaving her all alone. He moved back to the doorway and opened the door. He stood there and could only watch her cry. He wouldn't be able to convince her that this was right, at least not now, and maybe not ever.

Draco heard footsteps running up the stairs. Potter was back. Harry could hear Hermione crying all the way downstairs. He looked at Draco, then to his best friend, and Malfoy explained, "I told her that I confessed." Harry nodded in acknowledgement, took off his jacket, and wrapped it around his best friend's frame. He hadn't held her in such a long time, but he would have traded anything for the circumstances to be different.

Harry sat on the floor and rocked her back and forth. Hermione said, "He's ruining our lives. I paid for that crime, and I would do it again. I did it for him, and he's throwing it all away. It means nothing to him!" Harry looked up at Draco, who sat on the bed to listen.

"He has no right, Harry," Hermione said.

"I have every right, Granger!" Draco interjected from his place on the bed. "It's the truth, and I love you. Those are my rights!"

She looked up at him and in her agony said, "Don't leave me! I can't have another person leave me! I'm not strong enough. If this were your intent, then I would have rather been left alone and broken, instead of halfway healed. You're breaking my heart and shattering my soul, Draco Malfoy." Hermione put her head on Harry's lap. She continued to cry and she softly said, "You only think about today, not about tomorrow."

He got down on his knees beside the duo and touched her arm. "Fate has other things in store for us, Granger. I have no choice in this matter. Our path is already mapped out for us, and all we can do is follow the path. If I could stay beside you forever, protect you, and love you, don't you think I would? If I could be assured no harm would come to you, I would."

Hermione pushed his hand away, and sat up and said, "You're killing me, just as the Death Eaters killed my parents, you're surely killing me." She sunk back down on the floor with grief-stricken tears. He tried to touch her shoulder once more, but she hit his hand away again.

Malfoy's heart broke. He was too overwhelmed to stay in that room and watch her cry. He backed away from the pair, and stood up to leave the room. He didn't want to leave her. He never wanted to leave her. He wanted to be the one to hold her and console her, not Potter. Draco stayed in the doorway and watched until her crying stopped. She appeared to be sleeping. She hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. Harry stood up with her in his arms. Draco reached over and pulled down her covers. Harry placed her gently in her bed and kissed her forehead. Draco came over and touched her face. Harry motioned with his head toward the hallway, indicting for Draco to follow. They walked out to the hall and shut her door.

"Tell me the whole story, everything you know, about Snape, about your encounter with the Death Eaters, everything," Harry commanded.

Therefore, that's what Draco did.


	12. The Lie or the Truth

**all characters belong to JKR**

**12 - The Lie or the Truth?**

Harry and Draco talked until night. They formulated a plan. A plan that they hoped would ensure Hermione's safety. It was around one in the morning before Harry went to bed. He left Draco in the library. Harry went to check on Hermione before he went to bed. She was once again ignoring him, so she wouldn't answer her door. He could handle that, as long as she was safe.

He always knew she was lying about killing Snape. However, he knew she had her reasons, so he never once questioned her about it. He always knew that Draco was the true killer, but again, it wasn't his place to force the truth out of anyone. Tomorrow, Harry would take Draco to the Ministry, where he would confess to what he did. After that, he didn't know what might happen.

Draco stayed downstairs for almost an hour. He kept hoping Hermione would come down. She didn't. Someday she would understand. Someday she would forgive him. He walked up the back staircase, so he could go directly to his room, and wouldn't have to pass her room. He half hoped that when he opened his bedroom door he would see her sitting in her little chair. She wasn't there. He walked over to his desk and he saw an old battered looking letter, addressed to Hermione, and he picked it up. He had meant to give it to her so many times. He wondered if she saw it last night, when she nursed him back to health. If she did, she must have forgotten about it since. He picked it up off the desk and put it in the desk drawer. He got undressed down to his boxers, and threw his covers back. He sat on the edge of the bed for another few minutes. He heard footsteps outside his door, and then he thought he saw a shadow under the door. He quickly lay back on the bed, left the covers at the foot, and feigned sleep. Was it friend or foe? He hoped friend. He wished for friend. He wanted it to be her.

His door opened a crack, and he shut his eyes. The person entered the room and shut the door. He heard footsteps pad across the planks of pine floor. He felt the side of his mattress lower with a bow as someone came to lie beside him on the bed. He smelled a familiar scent: vanilla and raspberries. He felt a familiar hand on his chest and a recognizable head sharing his pillow. Should he continue to pretend, or should he opened his eyes and confront her with the truth? What truth would she want?

He continued to simulate sleep, as a pair of silky rosebud lips came sweeping across his cheek. His resolve was breaking down. The body next to him shivered and he could pretend no more. He moved to his side, and reached for his covers, covering them both. She placed her head on his chest, next to her hand.

"I understand why you have to do what you have to do," she said to him, "it doesn't mean I like it, but I do understand. You have to do what you have to do, just as I once had to do what I had to do."

He stroked her arm with the hand that was around her body, and his other hand came to rest on her hand on his chest. He played with her fingers, threading them in and out of his. He touched each one, as if he was trying to memorize how they felt, and what they could do.

"I'm glad you understand. I want more than your understanding, however," he whispered to her, as if someone might hear.

"What else do you want?" she asked.

"Your forgiveness," he stated.

She asked, "What have you done that needs forgiving?"

"I was a coward. I should have admitted to killing Snape in the beginning. I was just so thankful at first that no one ever questioned me about it that I decided to try to pretend it didn't happen. Then, after I found out you had taken the blame, I should have been a man and admitted my transgressions, but again, I did nothing. Doing nothing is perhaps the biggest mistake of all." He kissed the top of her head.

"If you want my forgiveness, I give it to you freely," she offered. "I thought you were going to ask for something else."

"What else should I ask?" he asked her.

Hermione looked at him, straight in the eye, and said, "I thought you would ask me to wait for you. Ask me to abide by my love for you."

"If I asked, would you do that?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course," Hermione said, without hesitation. "You know, if the Ministry sentences you to prison, you could very well die."

"Potter has some sort of elaborate plan. He says it will keep me from harm. I may still have to serve some type of sentence, but he thinks it won't be long. We'll just have to wait and see," Draco told her. "While you're waiting for me, I want you to continue living. No more of this shutting yourself off from the world. Finish your book with Lupin. I know you want to accomplish that. I would, however, request that you stay here, at Headquarters."

"Even if you go to jail, the Death Eaters will probably still hunt me down," she told him.

"Again, Potter claims he has a very reliable lead on their whereabouts," Draco said with a yawn.

She got up on her side and said, "But that means you could wait. Wait and see if Harry captures them first. If he finds them, you don't have to do this."

"Granger," he started, "I still have to do this. I have to do this for my own soul to be saved."

He kissed her longingly. He would miss kissing her like this. Who knew someone he once hated so much, could now be the only source of love in his whole life. She was once the bane of his existence, and now she was the reason for it. The world would surely fall off its axis if it knew how ironic the whole thing was.

"Let's get some sleep," she suggested. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He would miss moments like this most of all, small simple moments, moments to cherish. He would have to remember this so he could replay it repeatedly in his mind, for when he was away from her.

When Hermione woke the next morning, in Draco's bed, he was already gone. He left her a note, and under the note was the battered letter that she saw on his desk the night he was cursed by the Death Eaters. She sat up and read the first note first, since it clearly said, 'read first'.

The note said:

_____________________________________________________________

_Granger,_

_I decided not to wake you. I'm a coward after all, which has already been established. I just couldn't say goodbye to you, not yet. Whatever happens, I do want you to wait for me. If that's selfish of me, I can't help it. That's what I want._

_Do not, under any circumstances, read the second note until I tell you to. I wrote it to you that first night you left this house all those months ago. My thoughts and feeling contained within are still valid, but I'm not ready for you to read them yet. Soon, though, very soon._

_Remember, I love you. I really do. I told you once that as much as someone like me could love, I love you. Well, thanks to you, I now know someone like me can love a lot, because I love you - a lot. _

_Be strong and carry on. Everyone cares about you. You're important to so many of us. Your life is a life that is loved._

_Forever, Malfoy_

______________________________________________________________

Hermione didn't cry. She smiled. He signed it Malfoy. She took the other letter and decided she would respect his wishes. She would wait. She went to get showered and dressed.

A week passed. Perhaps the slowest week in Hermione's life, for she was left alone at 12 Grimmauld Place. Maybe they finally trusted her not to run away. She also hadn't heard any news at all. She didn't know what was happening to Draco. She didn't know where Harry was. She received an owl from him that day telling her he would return soon with news.

She walked aimlessly from one room to another. She honestly was at a loss at what to do. She finally sat down on the sofa and opted to stare off into space. She remembered that day, which felt like a lifetime ago, when Harry, Lupin and she went to Draco's probation hearing. Harry didn't want Hermione to come with them. He said she had written out her sworn affidavit, and that should be enough. She wouldn't have to give testimony. She wanted to go anyway. She felt she owed the man in question something. He had saved her life by killing his own father, so she would be brave and face him. She would try to make sure that he was released from prison. It was the least she could do.

She was so scared that she was shaking like the proverbial leaf. There wasn't enough air in the room. She was having trouble breathing. When he came walking into the room, along with a guard, he was bleeding from a head wound. Someone had apparently been upset by something he had said, and that person whacked him a sound one on the head. He probably deserved it. Hermione's heart was beating fast, and she was sweating. Why was she so afraid to face him? She couldn't even look him in the eye. She felt guilty. That's what it was. He was in jail for killing his father, and it was her fault. Her guilt was what reserved her gaze from his.

He sat down and thanked everyone for joining him for tea. Even after all this time, and after everything he had been through, he was still a bastard. He was probably smirking. He looked at Harry and then at Lupin. Even though her eyes were diverted from his, she could tell that he was staring at her. He kept staring at her even while the proceedings started.

Harry leaned over to her and asked her if she wanted to leave. Harry could tell that Malfoy was acting hostile toward her. She shook her head no. Then he asked her if she wanted him to hold her hand for support. She nodded yes. He took her hand under the table.

Also underneath the table, Draco's foot grazed the side of hers. Did he know it was her foot? She stuck her feet under her chair for a moment. When she finally put them back out in front of her, his foot was gone. Seconds later, it grazed her foot again. This time, she looked up at him. He was drilling holes in her eyes with his. His stare almost burned her. She removed her foot again.

The judge, defense, and prosecuting attorneys left. Then Lupin, Harry, and the probation officer left. That left just Draco, Hermione and the guard in the room.

Draco started tormenting her. It was what he did best. He had done it all her life, she didn't expect anything different now. Somehow, though, she knew his words were empty. She knew there was no longer any hate behind them. She probably knew that before he did. He called her a Mudblood. So what? It wouldn't be the last time.

Her emotions were so raw. She started to cry. She cried for her, for him, and everyone in between. She looked up at him and he did the oddest thing; he reached for her cheek and wiped away a tear. His soft touch comforted her, while his words burned her soul. He made another comment, something about how he always thought a Mudblood's tears would be brown.

Then, the guard started beating him. He hit him in the head again with his stick, and Draco fell off his chair. She screamed for the guard to stop. He didn't until Harry came back in the room. Harry and the guard went to get help. He left Draco and Hermione alone in the room. This time, Hermione was truly scared, but she didn't show her fear.

Before she knew what happened, Draco had her up against the door and he was saying terrible, hateful things to her. He told her that he didn't kill his father to save her. As far as he was concerned, she was nothing but a filthy, dirty Mudblood, who deserved to die. She was crying hard by that time. She wasn't crying out of fear. She was crying because he was in such pain, and such denial. She told him that, and she thanked him for saving her life anyway. Then, she reached out and wiped away some of his blood. It was red, just like hers. Why couldn't he see that?

When Harry returned, she knew she couldn't stay in that room any longer. She couldn't tolerate Draco's pain any longer. If they didn't let him go free, then she wasted more than just her time that day. As she left, he saw her limping. He called her another name. She smiled inside. He cared, she knew it, and she didn't care if he couldn't admit the truth. Someday he would.

She stayed at the Headquarters because she wanted to be near him. She had feelings for him, though even she couldn't articulate what they were. She was free to go, her probation was over, and she had even been given her wand back. However, she pretended to everyone that she was still under house arrest and still prohibited from doing magic. She would stay at Harry's house as long as Draco needed her. That's what she did.

The moment he said he didn't need her anymore, (in fact, it was the moment he said he hated her, and for once, she believed him) she decided to resume her life, such as it was.

Why did he have to find her again? Why couldn't he have left well enough alone? It was a full circle. They were right back where they started. All her pain and suffering, combined with his, meant nothing.

She heard the sound of someone apparating. She walked to the foyer and saw Harry. He looked like he had been beaten down. She asked him for the news on Draco, any news, and all he did was put his hand in the air to silence her. He told her he needed some sleep. He told her Draco was sentenced to jail, but that he would be under protective custody. He said he knew nothing more at that time. He didn't know how long Draco would be in jail. He walked past her, put his hand on her shoulder, and said, "I'm sorry." He walked up stairs.

She sat down on a chair and continued to stare at nothing.


	13. Six Weeks and a Day

**all characters belong to JKR**

**13 - Six Weeks and a Day:**

Draco had been gone for exactly six weeks and a day. For six weeks and one day, Hermione had not seen his face, talked to him, touched him. They had no contact at all. For the first two weeks, she would go and sit in her chair by the little window in his room every single day. Sometimes she would read, and sometimes she would knit. Sometimes she did nothing at all but stare at the wall.

After the second week, she started sleeping in his bed. She hadn't even changed the sheets. The sheets smelled like him. She would lie in the bed at night, clutching his pillow to her side, and imagine it was he. After yet another week, she moved her clothing and books and belonging to his room. She put the letter he had given her, the one she wasn't yet given authorization to read, under the mattress, to keep it safe. Neither Harry nor Lupin questioned her on her move. They accepted it for what it was.

The next thing she did was start wearing his shirts to bed. Then she started wearing his jumpers during the day. She was almost becoming obsessed. If only she could see him. If only he would allow that. There was nothing she wanted more than that.

She found a book he was reading. It was a Muggle book. It was "Walden" by Henry David Thoreau. She had read it many times. It would appear, by how tattered the cover was, that he had also read it many times. She suddenly laughed when she realized it was her copy. He must have borrowed it. Inside the front cover, underneath where she wrote, 'Property of Hermione Granger', he wrote, 'and Draco Malfoy'. She started to peruse the pages, and found that he had underlined quote after quote. Hermione read some of the quotes he had underlined:

"_**How vain is it to sit down and write, when you have not stood up to live."**_

"_**The universe is wider than our views of it."**_

"_**There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking the root."**_

"_**Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth."**_

"_**It is never too late to give up your prejudices."**_

"_**However mean life is, meet it, live it, do not shun it, and call it hard names."**_

Hermione shut the book and closed her eyes. She needed to draw upon her inner strength, or she might break down. She decided to start reading the book from the beginning. She knew reading a book that he had read, had taken the time to underline passages, would not make her forget him, but that was fine because she didn't want to forget him. She wanted to read this book, to help her pass the time, and maybe make her feel closer to Malfoy. She sat in her chair, and opened the book to page one.

Harry stuck his head in the room and told her he was leaving shortly. He had gone to see Draco numerous times, but every time Hermione wanted to go with him, he would say 'no' and tell her that Draco didn't want to see her.

That hurt her feelings beyond belief. She once even left the house on her own, went directly to the Ministry, where he was still being held pending a hearing, and requested to see him. It appeared that Draco had a short list of people that he had granted permission to see him, and Hermione apparently wasn't one of them. She left in defeat, only to run into Harry on the way back to Headquarters. Harry was so angry with her for leaving without telling someone. He was still angry with her about that. He reminded her that there were still plenty of dangerous people out there. Honestly, he treated her as if she was a five-year-old child.

Harry told her she was lucky that the Ministry decided not to prosecute her again, for making false claims. She did have to go to the Ministry once, after the first week, to give testimony. She had to testify that Snape had pulled his wand on Draco, and that Draco reacted in self-defense. She could only hope that this time, her testimony would really help him. The last time she testified for him, when he killed his father, was the beginning of this whole mess.

Harry asked her if she had a message for Draco. Why should she give him a message? She hadn't received one from him in six weeks and a day. She told Harry she didn't, only to renege on that vow just a few seconds later. She gave Harry an envelope with a note for Draco. It was a note that she had hoped to give to him herself, and for quite a while. Maybe it was time to have someone else give it to him. Harry promised her he would deliver her note.

Shortly after Harry left, she put the book down and went down to the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table, wondering if Draco had received her note yet. It wasn't really a note. She had charmed a piece of parchment so that he could communicate with her, and she could communicate with him, at the same time. It was charmed so no one could see it but Draco. All he had to do was write on it with a quill, and his message would automatically appear on a second piece of parchment, which Hermione had laid out before her on the table. She explained all of this on a separate piece of parchment, which would disintegrate after he read it. She thought the whole thing was rather ingenious, if she did say so herself. She sat and stared at the parchment for what felt like an eternity. She was willing words to appear. Any words. Please.

Finally, her wish came true.

"_**Hermione?"**_ She saw on her note.

"_Hello, Draco."_ She wrote on her parchment, so it would appear on his.

"_**How have you been?"**_Appeared on her piece of parchment.

"_How do you think? I won't even bother to ask how you are, because I can't even imagine. Why won't you see me?__"_He read what she wrote, and he didn't know what to write back. He wanted to see her. He just wanted to spare her.

He wrote, _"__**It's better for both of us this way. I think of you every minute of every day.**__"_He sat there for a minute and then added, _**"I miss you."**_

She wrote, _"What's going on with your case? Harry won't tell me anything."_

She read what he wrote: _"__**There's nothing to tell. Nothing has happened yet. I've had a preliminary hearing, and the Ministry has to decide if I should go to trial, be directly sentenced, or if my time served, was sufficient. So far, no decision has been made."**_

Hermione read that and didn't know what else to write. When she didn't write back he wrote to her again, _**"How did you think this one up? This reminds me of your magic galleon idea from school."**_

She smiled and wrote, _"__I have my moments."_

He laughed and wrote, _**"You've always been very bright, that much is true. It's not like I have just figured that out either, I've always known it. I'm just now admitting it."**_

Hermione wrote, _"I'm reading your copy of 'Walden. __I hope you don't mind."_

Draco wrote, _**"I don't mind, and you have probably already figured out it's really your copy. I stole it. Potter told me you have all but moved into my room. When I get home, I want my room back, do you understand? I've grown accustomed to that dreary little grey room with that tiny little window."**_

Hermione smiled and wrote to him, _"Maybe we could share. I would also like to share with you another Thoreau book; well it's really an essay. Have you read, 'Civil Disobedience'? There's a quote from that one that I think you would like, and it goes something like, 'Under a government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison'."_

Draco wrote, _**"**__**How apropos."**_

Hermione decided to cut to the chase and wrote again, _"__Why won't you see me?"_

He read that and didn't know what to write back. Finally, he wrote, _**"The reason seems obsolete now. I thought it would be too painful for both of us. Nevertheless, here we are 'talking' and it's not awkward. It would be better to see you, though. Next time Potter comes to see me; I would like to see you as well."**_

Hermione was so happy she wanted to laugh aloud. She wrote,_"You better tell Harry that your thoughts on the matter have been amended. He might not believe me. I snuck out a while ago to see you, but apparently my name wasn't on some bloody list of potential Malfoy visitors."_

Draco could almost 'hear' her annoyed tone just from her words. He could almost picture her exasperated facial expression as well. He decided to make it up to her, so he wrote, _**"I love you."**_

"_I love you as well."_ She wrote back. He looked at the words on his piece of parchment and felt happy for the first time in six weeks. And a day.

He finally wrote, _**"We should stop writing for now. I wouldn't want to be caught. Even though I'm in solitary confinement, (for my own protection) they tend to look in on me a lot. I'm only allowed one hour out of my cell per day, for exercise, which means walking back and forth in a cage. How will I know if you want to write to me again? Will the paper become warm, or glow, or something?"**_He wondered if his sense of humour about the parchment would transfer to the written word. Then he realized that the paper probably did glow or something.

Finally, she wrote her reply,_"The words will just appear on the parchment, so I guess you will just have to keep checking. Will you be able to keep the parchment somewhere safe? I'll keep mine on me at all times. Maybe we could just make an arranged time when we could write to each other. Anyway, I want you to know if the Ministry doesn't grant you a speedy trial soon, then I'll go down there myself and demand that they hurry up and grant you a trial, and give you your sentence!"_

He thought she was funny. He wrote,_**"Instead of demanding a speedy trial and sentencing, why not demand an acquittal instead?"**_

Hermione wrote, _"See, you're smart as well."_

Draco wrote, _**"I really have to go. Potter will be back here soon. He had a meeting with the judge who is to hear my case. I'll tell him to bring you with him next time. He told me he has some concrete leads on the Death Eaters in question. Keep your chin up, Granger. I love you."**_

"_Alright,"_ she wrote.

"_**Goodbye,"**_ he wrote.

"_Goodbye,"_ she returned.

She folded her piece of parchment and put it in her pocket. She was going to get to see him soon. That made her happier than she had been in six weeks and a day.

Hermione did get to go with Harry the next time he went, and it was much sooner then she thought. It was the very next day. Harry and Hermione flooed to the Ministry, and went to the lowest level. This was where the prisoners waiting to go to Azkaban, as well as the ones being released, were held. It's also the place she met him, all those long months ago, when she came to his last hearing.

Harry and she waited in a little room, much like the one that they had met with him the last time. The last time she sat in a room like this, he was her enemy. He hated her, or at least he pretended to. This time, their feelings were so much different.

She couldn't wait any longer. The anticipation of waiting for him to walk through that door was killing her. Her stomach was doing somersaults. Her life had been in limbo the last six weeks. All of their lives were.

Harry looked over at her and he could see how nervous she was. He gave her knee a squeeze, and smiled at her. He knew the real reason Draco asked to see her today. Draco found out this morning what his fate was to be. Harry already knew, and now it was up to Draco to tell Hermione.

A guard came in the room first and right behind him was Malfoy. He had a large bruise on his face, his hair was matted and dirty, and he had tattered clothes on his back. He looked thinner. His hands were magically bound in front of him. She didn't think that was a good sign. The last time they were in this similar situation, he wasn't bound, and he went free that time. This could only be a bad sign, she decided.

He pulled out the chair opposite her. How she wanted to leap over the table and grab him in her arms! If only she could. Instead, she stayed in her chair, content in the moment - the moment of finally seeing him again. She stared directly in his eyes, and his eyes had not left hers since he entered the room.

The guard told them they only had fifteen minutes. Then he left. Harry got up as well, and told them they could have some time alone. Soon, it was just Hermione and Draco in the room. Hermione reached across the table and cupped Draco's face in her hand. He leaned his face as close to her hand as he could, and shut his eyes. To feel the touch of her hand again…it was maddening and enlightening all at the same time.

She finally broke the silence, and asked, "What happened to your face?" She removed her hand, and in essence, removed his only lifeline. He felt like she was leaving him to drown.

He said, "It seems I'm not very popular in here, with the guards or the inmates. I get one hour a day to exercise with the rest of the inmates, I guess the other day I must have walked the wrong way or something, and I offended someone. It's nothing. Don't worry about things like that. It doesn't matter."

She was outraged! "Of course it matters. You're supposed to be in protective custody."

"I am, don't worry," he said. Then he added, "We don't have much time. Come over here, please."

She got up and walked over to him. He stood and lifted both his arms, which were bound at the wrists, and slid them over her body, holding her tightly in their realm. He kissed her cheek. He couldn't bear to hold her this close and not kiss her. It would be a travesty.

As he held her he asked, "So, I heard your book about the war was finally published. Do I get an autographed copy?" He smiled down at her.

"That could be arranged. I'm sure Lupin will write a very stirring inscription for you," she joked.

"That would be nice. Maybe you could inscribe it was well," he said, and then he sighed. He was dreading the moment when he was going to have to tell her that he had his hearing this morning, but he knew he had to. He felt hopeless as well as helpless, talking about stupid commonplace things, when there were more important things to discuss, and not much time. However, he was stalling.

"I miss you so much," she started to cry. She wasn't making this easy for him.

"Please, don't cry," Draco pleaded, "I don't want to remember you crying. I want to picture you forever happy and beautiful. When I'm alone, I want to see a smiling Granger in my head, not a crying one." He kissed her softly on her head. She lifted her face, and his lips finally found the solace that they sought. He kissed her lips and could taste her salty tears on her face.

She tried to reign in her tears, for his sake. It was a difficult task.

They said nothing for what seemed like a long time. They held each other, and occasionally would kiss each other. The guard stuck his head in and said, "You only have three more minutes." Three minutes to see her. Three minutes in which to tell her goodbye. Three minutes to tell her the outcome of his trial. Three minutes. Life was unfair.

"Hermione," he said, as she looked up at him, "I have to tell you something. I had my hearing today. Rather speedy after all. They went ahead and sentenced me. Before I tell you the outcome, I want you to promise me two things." She stared at him, too afraid to speak. He said, "One, as soon as you get home, read the letter I left you. Two, no matter what, I still want you to wait for me."

Her heart seemed to be in her throat. She swallowed hard and asked, "And how long will I be waiting, Malfoy?"

A tear ran down his cheek. She thought, 'no, please not that long.'


	14. The End of it All, Part I

**all characters belong to JKR**

**14 - The End of it All, part I:**

Hermione opened the letter Draco had written to her once more. He had written the letter to her after she had left Grimmauld Place the first time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She had read the letter many times after he was sentenced to prison, but here she was reading it again.

* * *

_Granger:_

_How dare you run away from me. What a coward. After all the brave things you have done in your life, I would never have guessed that you would do something so cowardly as running away. I guess I was wrong. You're a coward and a liar._

_How are you a liar? Let me tell you. You said you loved me. Then you left me. If you love someone, you don't leave. You stick it out. Of course, I lied as well. I told you that I hated you and that we would all be better off without you. That was a lie of monumental proportions. All the years that you have known me, you've never believed anything that I've said, and now all of the sudden you decide to take my word at face value. I'm ashamed of you. What a fool you are._

_I know you have heard that I'm free. The bloody probation officer told you and then he took you away, and he won't tell anyone where you went. I can't believe you were secretly free all this time. Your probation, house arrest, your ban from magic, all of that was over with, but yet you pretended to still be under probation, just so you could stay here with me. How very cunning of you. That made me wonder, why would you do that? Why?_

_Finally, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. The truth was because you care, because you love me, and because you are a better person than me. Because you don't really lie, because when you tell a person you love them, you aren't being mendacious, you're being truthful. You love me, dammit! _

_Love is a stupid, stupid emotion. I was sure that I would never feel it. I didn't even think I would recognize it. Well, you know what? Thanks to you, I not only recognize it, but now I can feel it and I want to return it to you. Nevertheless, you've run away. Well, I say, not bloody well likely._

_I don't know if you will ever get this letter. I hope you do. I have hired a Muggle private detective to find you. If the man finds you, and I'm not able to face you in person, then I will send you this letter. I guess I'll have to figure out how to use the Muggle postal service._

_If I pluck up my courage, then perhaps I'll give this to you in person, or better yet, I'll just tell you what's in my heart, if I see you again. I better see you again. If I don't, I'll be very angry._

_I just read through this letter, and I realized that the tone is quite harsh. I really did want to tell you off, but my main reason for writing was to tell you that I love you. So there you are. I love you Hermione Granger. _

_You are the only person I have ever really loved. Remember that. If I never see you again, at least have that memory, that notion. So when you think of me, you won't automatically think of me as just a bastard. You'll think of me as a bastard who loves you. I love you more than I love life itself. I love you more than I thought possible. I love you because you love me. _

_Enough with the sentimental rubbish, just one more piece of simple fact – I love you._

_Forever yours, Draco_

* * *

Each time she read the letter, she cried. No matter what, and she had read the letter more times than she could count. Just as she used to take out her parents' letter and read it when she was sad or lonely in school, she would take out Draco's letter now and read it when she was sad and lonely, and she was sad and lonely often, so that meant she read the letter often.

Draco had been gone for 15 months. She had all but stopped living. She was still waiting for him. That day she went to visit him in the jail, he told her that he had been sentenced to five years in prison. It was to start immediately, taking into consideration time served, from his earlier sentence and the six weeks he had waited for his current sentence. He was to serve it in complete solitary confinement, which meant she could not visit, or write to him, not even once.

What that meant was that with the year that he had served previously, and the six months of house arrest at Harry's, and the six weeks of confinement before his sentencing, and the 15 months he has already served, he still had 26 more months in prison. Two more years, and two months, and they could start their lives. Two more years, and two months and they could openly share their love. Two more years, and two months she would finally be whole.

Harry told her just recently that they finally found the Death Eaters responsible for her previous attack. One of them was captured, and in exchange for a lighter sentence, he sold out the others. That just occurred two weeks ago. At least that meant that when Draco was released, they would be relatively safe from harm. Hermione knew that Harry had been working on nothing else but finding these Death Eaters for the last year. She just wished he would move on with his life as well - get married and have children. Didn't they all deserve happiness?

She decided to move out of Grimmauld Place. She wanted to try living by herself again. She packed her things up that morning, when she stopped to re-read the letter. Harry had no valid reason why she shouldn't move. The book she had written with Lupin was in its fifth publication. She was receiving nice royalties each month from the book. The money was enough for her to live on for the time being. She still had money left from her parents as well. She would be fine. She bought a small house, just two bedrooms, a bath, a living room and a kitchen.

Harry and Ron helped her move. She had finally decided to mend fences with Ron. Life was too short to hold grudges. She knew that now. She had all of Draco's belongings moved to her house as well. She set them all up in the second little bedroom. He would need a place to stay when he was released. Harry didn't argue. He understood. He knew that having Draco's belongings near her was her last lifeline to him. He hadn't told Hermione that he had been in contact with Draco all along. She didn't need to know.

Several more weeks had passed, and her house was coming together fine. She would alternate her nights between the two bedrooms: one night she would sleep in her bedroom, and one night she would sleep in his. She would spend her days reading, or writing. She had taken to writing in a journal. It wasn't so much a journal, as it was a long, long letter to Draco. She wanted something for Draco to read when he was released from prison. When she wrote to him in her journal, it seemed like he was right there with her. Sometimes she would have almost casual conversations with him through her writing, and sometimes she would pour out her deepest and darkest thoughts, empting her soul and cleansing her conscience.

She had painted Draco's room blue. She asked Harry if she could move all of the furniture from his little room at Grimmauld Place to his new room, and he agreed. That's where she liked to read, in the little chair, by his new window, which was considerably larger than the window at Headquarters. His new room had a bay window and a window seat. Hermione lined the window seat with all of his books. Maybe when he returned she would clear it off and they could sit there together and read in the evenings.

She painted her bedroom yellow. She needed something bright and happy in her life. She even got a small calico cat, and named it Matilda. The little cat was great company to her during the long dark nights. That was when she missed him the most, at nights. Sometimes she would remember the two nights they had made love. It was strange to realize that they had only made love on two different occasions. Yet, sometimes at night, she could almost feel his hands upon on, making her complete, loving her unconditionally. Yes, nights were hard on her.

One day she was taking a bath at her new house, with Matilda sitting on the edge of the tub, and she started to cry. She didn't know how much longer she could wait for him. She needed him so much. However, she had no choice. Waiting for him was something she had to do. There was no difference in waiting for him, than there was in breathing air and drinking water. All were similar feats, in that they were all things she needed to do to survive.

She had a very small yard, but there were beautiful flowers up and down her little cobbled stone path that led to the dirt lane that was her street. She liked to put fresh flowers throughout her little brick cottage daily. Her nearest neighbor was far enough away that she felt complete privacy and contentment. Her street ended in a dead end, with her house at the very end of the lane, which meant she was never disturbed and never discovered. For safety, she put up many charms and wards, but she was rarely ever afraid, that was until that day. One moment - that changed everything.

She was out front, tending to her flowers and pulling weeds, when she saw a dark figure walking down her little dirt lane, directly toward her house. Her house was at the end of the road, so the stranger could only be coming for her. No one ever just took a walk down her lane. She stood up and put her hand over her eyes, to shield them from the sun. Small sweat beads had began to form on her brow. She leaned her head forward and tried to make out whom this man could be. Her friends would have apparated to her house. None of them would have to walk there.

She started to become worried, scared. She threw down the spade and hoe, and fished in her pocket for her wand. She wouldn't draw it out yet, in case it was just a lost Muggle. She took several steps backwards, toward her house, not wanting to lose eye contact with the man.

He started jogging toward her. She was becoming more afraid. Hermione turned to run in her house, and she tripped over the spade she had tossed to the ground. She cried out, fumbled for her wand, which she had dropped, and tried to stand back up, but saw the figure was coming closer and closer, now running full speed. She only had time to cover her head with her arms. She lay on the warm earth, hands over her head, as the man's body cast a shadow over her body, blocking her from the sun.

She turned her face, looked upright, and the bright sun was behind the man so that she could only make out a faint outline at first. She could see nothing familiar or recognizable about him. The sun was so bright behind him, that she again had to put her hand on her forehead, over her eyes, just to see. He held out a hand and said, "Hermione."

A jolt of lightening went through her. She reached her hand up to grab his, finally realizing who it was. She cried out, what sounded like a strangled sob, and instead of taking her outreached hand, he fell on this knees beside her and wrapped her in his arms. It was Draco.


	15. Tne End of it All, Part II

**all characters belong to JKR**

**15 - THE END OF IT ALL – PART II**

"No, this isn't real. You're not real!" she said in a shaky voice, as he held her body up against his. He stood up and brought her with him. He held her by her upper arms, but pushed her slightly away.

"I'm real. I'm here," was all he could say, then he put each hand on her cheeks, with the intention of kissing her, but he smiled and wiped some dirt off her cheek first. Then he kissed her. His mouth found hers, and it was as if it had never left. He kissed her slowly, every few seconds pulling back to look at her, and then finding her lips again. She closed her eyes and leaned into his body, and reached up to feel the stubble on his cheek. After the third time of him pulling back, she grabbed the back of his neck and forced him to stay. He opened his mouth against her mouth, and drank from the fountain, from which he had been deprived for so long.

When they finally parted, she put her hand up to his head, and rubbed his scalp. His hair was shorter than she had ever seen it. Almost a military cut. It seemed darker blonde when it was shorter. He had a hint of beard and mustache, which she had never seen before. He was always clean-shaven before. He was so thin. Being as tall as he was, his slight frame looked awkward. No wonder she didn't recognize him.

She placed her head on his chest and hugged him tight. She kept saying, "You're home, you're really home." She put her hand back on his jaw, and she could feel him clench it slightly.

He said, "Hermione, I have so much to tell you."

"Just first tell me you're really here, and that you don't have to leave again. Don't do this to me. If you can't stay, don't even come in my house," she said without hesitation.

He smiled larger than he had smiled in a long time and said, "Same old, Granger. I'm here. I really am here." He reached for her hand and started into her house. She took a deep breath, but refused to move from the spot. He turned back around and asked, "Are you coming?"

She had so much she wanted to ask him, and more she wanted to say, but something deep inside her told her to be completely sure that he was being truthful. She needed to be completely sure that he wasn't going to go away again. It had been hard to trust him in the past. She had to be sure. Therefore, she refused to move.

"I'm not leaving this spot until I know for sure that you aren't leaving me again," Hermione said passively, almost embarrassed. She couldn't help it, for she really didn't want to be hurt again.

The next thing that happened shocked her, and she realized that it shocked Draco as well, when he said, under his breath, "I can't believe I'm about to do this." He walked up to her, put her over his shoulder, and started walking toward the house. He put her down on the porch and said, "Now, after you."

"That didn't prove anything," she concluded.

"For goodness sakes, let's open the damn door and get inside!" he said, grabbing her hand and leading her in her house.

Hermione had no choice but to follow him inside. He dropped her hand as soon as he entered and looked around her cozy little living room. He started touching things: pillows, a chair, a vase. He bent down to smell the fresh flowers. He walked around the room once more, saw a book on the coffee table, and picked it up, smiled, and laid it aside. Hermione was just watching him, biting her bottom lip.

"So, Potter said you moved me in, where's my room?" he asked, heading toward the bedrooms. She ran up and caught him before he opened the door to her room.

"When did you see Harry?" she asked him.

"Nothing gets by you, Granger. I'll explain everything, I promise. Can you show me my room first?" he asked her, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips. He kissed her fingertips, and she closed her eyes. The closeness of him was enough to bring her to her knees. "Granger?" he asked again.

She pointed to her right, with her free hand. He let go of her and went through the other door. He saw all the familiar furniture, and books, and even his clothing, some of which was on the bed, folded in neat piles. He picked up a shirt and turned to her, with a question in his eyes. "Has someone been wearing my shirts?"

She smiled widely and said, "Yes, but they have been freshly laundered. I just haven't put them away yet."

"Who wore them?" he asked, with the raise of one eyebrow.

"Various men," she lied. He laughed and hugged her again.

"Does this mean I get to wear your clothes as well?" he whispered in her ear.

"If you want," she said quietly.

"Can we start with what you have on now?" he asked seductively.

"This old thing?" She pointed to her t-shirt.

"I like it, let me have it, Granger," he said, pulling it over her head. "Oh, Granger, you're so beautiful." He pulled her into his arms and started kissing her all over her face and neck. "I've been dreaming of this moment for so long. I don't know how I've survived." He rained kisses down her chest and on her shoulders. He sucked on her neck, brushing his tongue flat against her flesh.

"I know you have questions, and I have answers," he said, through ragged breaths, "but first, I need you. I need you so badly. Please." She nodded and he lifted her up and put her on the bed, knocking all his clean shirts to the floor.

He hovered above her, removing his shirt and kicking off his shoes. She watched him somberly. He removed his trousers and sat down on the bed. He put his hand on her chest, between her breasts. He wanted to feel her heartbeat. He put his head on her left breast, for the same reason. He sat back up and put his hand on her stomach. The scars were faded slightly, but still very much there. He dipped his head and kissed her stomach. He unbuttoned her shorts, and helped her remove them. He removed her leg brace, as he had done before. He held his breath. It was almost as if he didn't know what to do first.

He lay down beside her and threw his leg over her body. He leaned over and kissed her gently on her neck, then her jaw, then her cheek. His elbow supported his body, as his free hand roamed hers. She met him point by point. He would kiss her, and she would kiss him back. He was all she ever needed.

Her hands traveled down his side. She could see his ribs. He was thinner. Her hand went back and forth, up and down, on his back and chest. He pulled away again to stare at her once more. She was his…finally.

Hermione undid her bra and removed it, as well her underwear. He removed his underwear. There was no need for introductions, no need for formalities. He needed her now, and she wanted him as she had never wanted anything in her life.

The gnawing feeling that he felt in the pit of his stomach traveled lower, as her hands traveled down his body. They were side by side, kissing, touching, caressing, holding, biting, sucking, beginning and ending. One circle, one life, amen.

His hands traveled to her heat and explored her as he kissed her hungrily. She continued to fondle him with tentative, soft, hesitant touches. He could take no more. Their need was too great, too massive. He continued to kiss her as he glided into her body, stroking, back and forth.

Theirs was a passion like no other. Not only were they making up for lost time, but lost space and freedom as well.

His mouth moved down to her long neck, as she clutched his broad shoulders with her fingertips. She soon wrapped her hands into his hair, and she brought her legs up to his hips, so they could become even closer.

She moaned softly, and then louder. It was an explosion to his ears. His senses were in overdrive. He had been holding his breath without being aware, and as he finally expelled his breath, a loud guttural sound expelled from the depths of his soul.

Nimble fingers, soft kisses, passion and heat. It was all theirs for the taking. Everything he offered her, she gladly accepted. As quickly as it started, it quickly ended. He cried out once more, he was so close that he couldn't hold on a moment longer. He had waited so very long, but for her, he could do anything. When it was clear that she was starting to climax, he released all of his passion in one final thrust of the hips. She moaned a long, almost mournful sound, and he collapsed upon her, more exhausted, but happier than he had ever felt in his life.

Without meaning to, he fell fast asleep. She let him slumber. She knew he was finally at peace. He deserved a fitful, peaceful, sleep. She reached down for her brace and quietly put it on her leg. She crawled out of bed, lifted his arm from her body, and replaced it on the bed. She looked down at his sleeping form, and bent to kiss his cheek, gently, so not to wake him. "I love you," she whispered softly.

He opened his eyes slightly and said, almost inaudible, "I love you, too." He shut his eyes and went back to sleep.

She grabbed her clothes, and tiptoed out of his room. She went to the bathroom, cast a silencing and a locking charm on the door, and turned on the shower. She entered the bathtub, drew the curtain, sat on a little bench she had within the tub, and with the water spraying above her, she cried, and cried, and cried. She didn't even know why she was crying. Was it happiness? Was it trepidation? Was it because she feared that none of this was real, and that he might go away again? Was it anger that they had lost so much time? It was everything and nothing. She cried until she could cry no longer.

After an hour in the shower, and the water finally running cold, she heard a knock on the door. "Hermione, are you in there?" Draco asked. He could not hear the shower, or her, but she could hear him. She took her wand, lifted the charm, and unlocked the door.

He stepped inside, saw her in the bathtub, shivering. He could see that she had been crying, for her face was flushed and blotched, and her eyes red. He turned off the water, bent down, and lifted her to stand. He took a towel and wrapped it around her body. He helped her to step out of the tub, held her in his arms, and said, "I'm never letting you go."

She was no longer crying, but her breathing still sounded like shuddering. He finally said, "Go get dressed. I'm going to shower. Seems like a it's cold shower for me, as you've used all the hot water." He smiled, lifting her chin with his index finger. "I'll meet you out on the front porch, on the swing, okay?"

She could only nod to him her response. She left the bathroom and put on fresh clothing. She went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of lemonade, and then waited for him outside. She sat on the swing, slowly moving it back and forth with her good foot, as her other leg swung quietly in front of her.

When she heard the front door screen squeak open, she turned to watch him lithely walk across the porch to join her on the swing. She offered him his glass of lemonade, and he downed it in one drink. She smiled, hiding her mouth with her hand. He put the glass on the floor and said, "Yummy."

"I never thought I would ever hear you say, 'yummy'." Hermione laughed.

"I'm a whole new man." He smiled.

He took her hand and she moved closer to him on the swing. He started swinging them both back and forth, since his feet firmly touched the ground, as his legs were longer than hers were. She brought her good leg up to the swing, so she was sitting with it folded in front of her. She reached around and put her glass of lemonade on the windowsill. "Speak," she commanded.

"Okay." He took a deep breath, willing himself to speak. The things he had to say would not be easy. He would tell her things she might not want to hear, but he was never going to be a hypocrite again. He would never lie to her again.

"Okay, Hermione, just let me say what I have to say. If you feel the need to interrupt, please put your hand over your mouth, at least until I' finished, please?" He let go of her hand and stopped swinging. He shifted slightly to face her.

"I've lied to you, about more things than you could ever know, and I' going to tell you those things right now, but please, know that from this point on I'll tell no more lies."

"First lie, the last day I saw you, that day in jail, and I told you I was sentenced to five years in prison, that was a lie." He stopped, looked to see if he should continue, and saw that she had not changed expressions, so he continued. "Potter and I came up with a plan the night before I turned myself into the Ministry, and we proposed it to them, and they accepted. Our plan was that I would go to jail, under the guise that I was awaiting sentencing, but not for Snape's death. Everyone in jail, from the guards to eventually the inmates, was told that I was arrest for the attempted murder of you."

At this, she gasped. Then she actually put her hand over her mouth. Draco smiled slightly and again he continued, "We wanted all former Death Eaters to think that I was sympathetic to their cause. They wanted them to think that I wanted revenge against Snape's killer. After several weeks in jail, I was approached by a recently arrested Death Eater, who struck up an acquaintance with me. He told me that he knew of some Death Eaters that were still on the outside, who were also after revenge for Snape. He said he himself could care less that some Mudblood murdered a half blood, but he gave me their names and how to contact them."

"That was when the Ministry decided to put our proposal in action. I told you I was being sentenced to prison, and I know we should never have told you such a long time, but we really didn't know how long I would be gone, because we didn't know how deeply the treachery went."

"So, while you thought I was in prison, I was undercover for the Ministry, uncovering plans for Death Eaters against the Ministry, and Muggles, and the like. I also eventually became close to the men who were after you. Two of them remembered me from that night I went to retrieve your parents' letter. I had to tell them that I had gone there because I thought you would be there, and that I wanted to kill you."

Hermione had a tear go down her cheek. This was too outlandish, too incredulous. This was unbelievable. How could they not trust her? Why couldn't they tell her? As if he read her mind once more that day, he said, "It was my idea not to tell you. I wanted you completely safe and away from harm. I also didn't trust myself. If you had known the truth, I would have been tempted to contact you somehow. If you hate me for lying to you, so be it. I won't apologize, because I did everything out of love."

She stood up and said, "May I speak now?" She was openly crying.

"What do you want to say?" he asked, afraid of the floodgates opening.

"What took you so long? Why were you gone from me for so long?" she asked.

He stood as well. That wasn't quite the first question he anticipated, but he thought he could at least answer it easily enough. "It took that long to infiltrate the Death Eaters, and to make sure we had enough evidence against them. We uncovered so much more than just the plot to kill you, so again, I won't apologize."

"Heaven forbid you should apologize," she said flatly, almost without emotion. She pushed him hard, out of her way, swung the screen door open so hard that it hit the house, and walked in her living room and then she slammed the front door shut. Then she locked the door.

Draco sat back on the swing, took her glass of lemonade from the windowsill, took a sip, and thought overall, it went better than he expected.

Two hours later, on the nose, almost as if she was punishing him with a 'time out', she opened the front door. She didn't invite him back in, she said nary a word to him. She opened the door and walked into the kitchen, where she was preparing dinner. He hesitated at the threshold for a moment, and then walked into the little brick cottage, which he hoped he could still call home. She was setting the table, with two plates. He walked up to her and took the silverware from her hands, and laid them in their proper places beside the plates. She reached above the sink for glasses, and he came up and stood behind her, reached over her hand, grabbing two from the top shelf. She remained at the sink, neither turning around nor looking at him. He put the glasses on the table and then he came to her, stood behind her again, and put his arms around her waist.

"Forgive me and let's begin our lives. Don't we deserve to have a life together?" he asked softly in her ear.

She turned so quickly in his arms that he almost toppled over. She threw her arms around his neck and cried out, "I forgive you. I love you so much. Never leave me and never lie to me again." He picked her up from the floor, and held her suspended in the air for many, many moments.

He finally placed her feet back on the floor and said, "I'm finally home, and I'll never leave again, even if you try to throw me out. I'm here to stay."

"Promise me," she begged meekly.

"I promise you. I belong to you now. You belong to me. We've saved each other's lives, both figuratively and literally, so now we can never be parted. Nothing and no one will put us asunder," he told her in a husky voice. He kissed her lips with passion and promise. He meant every word. He would not ever lie to her again. She needed no such reassurance; for she knew down deep in her heart that he loved her, and he meant what he said. He was there to stay, and would never leave her again. Her life was finally worth loving, by him.

- THE END -


End file.
